Fly Girls
by AAWings
Summary: Serena Campbell has become a flight attendant with American Airlines. It is 1994. The industry is stable for now. Will love blossom between her and a Captain as she works her way from Miami-Cleveland to Miami-Paris? Read and find out. M for later.
1. Seniority is a bitch

Fly Girls

A Sailor Moon fan-fiction

Premise:

Okay, so I have decided to write this out of sheer stress relief stemming from the fact that I am currently unemployed (crossing fingers for employment), Sailor Moon has been a small vice for me since I was sixteen, and it combines flying, Sailor Moon (sans for their powers; they're regular human beings) and my favorite airline, American Airlines.

PLEASE NOTE: This story is based in 1994-1995 Miami. Doing research for this is going to take a while, but it'll be worth it.

Disclaimer:

I do _not_ own Sailor Moon or its characters. I also do _not_ own American Airlines or AMR Corporation. I also do _not_ own Boeing, McDonnell Douglas or Airbus. However, any original characters I do come up with are strictly MINE.

Also, I'd like to take this time to thank Jeffrey Anderson of TRSE (The Realm of Sailor Energy) for the inspirational pictures that he has agreed to draw of the girls and Darien in the American Airlines garb. If you wish to see these pictures, or read any of his great mini-Manga/Comics, please do so at: .

Chapter One: Seniority is a bitch

Serena Alisha Campbell had done it. She survived the rigorous six-week American Airlines flight training course in Dallas, Texas. Six weeks of learning everything from how to arm and disarm door slides, to serving First Class meals, to even saving passengers' lives in the event of a (hopefully non-existent) emergency. Here she is, on her first trip, excited-yet-nervous. It may have been only 8:00AM, but she had gone to bed extra early to ensure she was there for her 'show-time', especially since it _was_ her first day on the job.

Serena was 24, blonde, blue-eyed, tanned, bubbly and fresh from California, having left her modest home in Inglewood to pursue her dream of becoming a flight attendant with American Airlines. She adored the glamor, the travel and especially the benefits: ten buddy passes, two weeks paid vacation after one year as well as her mother, father, younger brother and sister being able to fly free, standby of course, on American anywhere in the world? It sure beat flipping burgers at McDonald's throughout her high school years.

If luck didn't bless her enough with the job that many-a-woman would kill for, she was doubly blessed to be based out of the (then) junior hub of Miami, Florida: gateway to the Caribbean, Latin and South America. Her eyes twinkled with the prospect of flying to places like Brazil, Barbados, St. Thomas, Jamaica and Mexico. Her mouth watered over the various exotic dishes she would sample while on the layovers she dreamed of. Her heart fluttered at the thought of bronzed, muscle-clad men on the beaches of some tropical paradise far, far away.

"Serena Campbell?" A voice called out, disturbing the fantasy that Serena was having about the bronze muscle-clad men.

"Yes?" She returned to the real world: the Flight Attendant's Briefing Center at the Miami airport.

A middle-aged, decent-looking woman, no younger than forty, her hair a reddish-grey, her eyes somewhat sunken, extended her hand out. "I'm Quinn Beryl. I'll be the Lead Flight Attendant today on flight nine-ninety. That _is_ the flight you've been assigned to, correct?"

Serena rustled into her overnight bag. Makeup? No. Hair brush? No. Change of clothes? No. She could see Quinn's face grow slightly displeased with her disorganized, frantic search for her schedule. A-ha! Found it.

"Yes, ma'am. American flight nine-ninety from Miami to…" Serena let out a dejected sigh. "Cleveland. How fun."

Quinn smirked and patted Serena on the shoulder. "Yes, I know, it sucks that the junior girls get all the crappy assignments. I was just like you twenty years ago. Instead of flying to places like Paris or Rome, I was hauling the mail from Dallas to Memphis and back every day for a week." Quinn motioned towards the hallway leading towards the terminal.

"Come on, dear. We have to go meet the airplane."

Serena sighed as she towed her overnight bag behind her, following Quinn to the gate. _Cleveland? What is there to do in Cleveland?_

_

* * *

_

The one damning thing about Miami International Airport is that it takes _forever_ to walk from the Flight Attendant's Briefing Room to the gates. Huffing and puffing along, she followed Quinn through the security checkpoint at Concourse "D", walking in quick stride to catch up to Quinn. Gate D22 would be where American flight nine-ninety would depart out of, heading up to Cleveland at exactly 9:30AM. The timetable was _not _to be trifled with, and as the Lead Flight Attendant, Quinn, with Serena in tow, was expected to be there at 8:50AM to prepare the cabin for departure.

"I am going to give you the speech, darling, and I have given it to every new flight attendant I have worked with the past fifteen years, so please listen up," Quinn said semi-sternly as they walked swiftly towards their gate. "You now represent American Airlines, one of the best companies to work for in the entire industry. Take pride in your appearance, take pride in your job and be damn sure not to cross passengers. If someone says that their nuts are too stale, you grab them a new pack of nuts. If their Coke has no ice, run to the galley and get ice. If a passenger complains it's too cold, bitch at the pilots to warm the cabin up, and don't forget to _smile_, dear!" Quinn said cheerfully as she turned her head to see Serena's lips straight. "You have to remember to smile. It makes the trip go by a lot faster if you're happy, not to mention that you have a great job, even if you _are_ flying to Cleveland for your first trip."

Serena was making mental notes as they trotted gracefully towards the gate. As Quinn continued to give her speech, Serena accidentally clipped her right foot with her left shoe, tripping over her own two feet. _God, I hope no one saw that_. She looked around and, to her surprise, only Quinn noticed. The Lead Flight Attendant looked down, smiled warmly and extended her hand. Serena gratefully accepted the assistance as Quinn brought her back up on her feet.

"Happened to me the first time I wore heels too, dear. Smacked my face right into a concrete pole," Quinn assured in a motherly tone. "Come on, our gate's over there." Quinn pointed to the gate sign that read in giant letters:

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 990

MIAMI-CLEVELAND

BOARDING 9:05AM

Parked at the gate was a Boeing 727-200, one of the workhorses of the American Airlines fleet. All Miami flight attendants had (or will) fly in a 727 at _least_ once in their careers. Many longed for the 757/767, A300 or DC-10 international flights, but only the lucky few got them. Women like Quinn had _earned_ the right to work those flights, she had explained to Serena, by hard work and determination. Serena eagerly hoped the hard work and crappy destinations during her first weeks would pay off in the end.

* * *

"Good morning, girls!" Quinn exclaimed cheerfully as Serena followed her into the airplane. "How are we, today?"

"Good," the three other women said in content unison. Serena never had time to admire how graceful the uniform looked on herself or the other attendants.

The American Airlines flight attendant uniforms were dark blue blazers, accented with gold diagonal stripes running from the bottom of the cuff to roughly the wrist. Blue neck scarves were wrapped around at the collar, the top button of the white dress shirt undone to facilitate this. The dark blue skirts came down to just above the knee, and the black polished high-heeled shoes were comfortable, yet awkward for somebody who wasn't used to them, as Serena learned in the concourse.

"Girls, this is our new attendant, fresh from boot. Her name is Serena Campbell. Serena, I'd like you to meet…" Quinn pointed her hand towards the three women standing in front of her.

"Rei Marshall," she pointed to a blue-eyed woman whose raven-black hair was tied into a tight bun.

"Mina Andrews," the other blonde, blue-eyed Californian (Serena would soon learn) that was gracing flight nine-ninety. Her bleach blonde hair was tied into a similar hairstyle, the 'ox-horns' style Serena wore. It was almost as if she was looking at her clone.

"And of course, our resident basketball player, Lita Hamilton." Lita was tall in comparison to the other women at five-foot-eleven. (The others were between five-foot-five and five-foot-seven) Her wavy chocolate hair was tied into a neat ponytail.

Each of the women shook Serena's hand and were in generally good spirits, despite it being only 8:50AM. Each of the women looked no older than Serena, probably 25 or 26, no older. Mina even looked only old enough to be a High School graduate.

As soon as the introductions were made, Mina, Lita, Rei, Serena and Quinn began their pre-boarding preparations for the two-and-a-half hour flight to Cleveland, Ohio. The practice of preparing the cabin was simple yet complex: lay newspapers for the First Class passengers, check the emergency equipment, make sure both the forward and aft galleys were stocked appropriately and adequately and ensure the onboard snacks and meals were ready to be served. The flight was scheduled to depart at 9:30, and even though the flight attendants were aboard, the pilots had yet to be seen. They were still in the terminal, walking towards the gate.

* * *

Amy Anderson had been a First Officer on the 727 for almost two years now with American Airlines. She couldn't think of any other job she'd wish to do more than fly the Boeing powerhouse. She was thirty, her original uniform _still_ fit her after seven years, and she was due for her bi-annual check-up sometime within the next two months. The sapphire-eyed, jet-black-haired aviatrix had been flying airplanes since she was sixteen, originally getting lessons from her father, a former DC-10 instructor pilot with American Airlines, on the family's Piper Cub. She didn't stop there. Five years, thirty-five thousand dollars and nearly four thousand hours later, Amy was in her dark blue uniform, her three rank stripes indicating that she was, in fact, a First Officer.

Flying with her today would be Captain Andrew McClane, the thirty-nine year old commander of flight nine-ninety to Cleveland. McClane came from an Air Force background, having paid his dues to the country, flying F-15 'Eagle' fighter aircraft for almost eight years before retiring from active duty and moving into a 'cushy' job at American flying the 727-200. He still flew with the Air Force Reserves out of Homestead Air Force Base south of Miami, flying the F-16 on top of the 727. He preferred the F-16 part-time and 727 full-time as opposed to the F-15 full-time, as it offers variety. He often says 'he plays bus driver by day, but by night, I'm your fighter pilot superhero!'

The Flight Engineer, a soft-spoken man by the name of Jared Lee, would be in the 'sideways seat', playing technical expert and systems operator for the flight. It was his job to give both pilots suggestions on troubleshooting, keeping the aircraft working properly _and_ handling passenger comfort.

All three pilots were dressed in their American Airlines pilot uniforms: blue blazer jackets with three or four rank stripes, a white dress shirt with matching epaulet stripes on their shoulders, dark blue dress pants, polished shoes and their American Airlines pilot caps, proudly representing that they flew for said airline.

"Here it is," Andrew said in his cheerful, chipper 'morning' voice. "Gate D22."

"Why the hell are we going to Cleveland, of all places?" Jared whined. "Thank God it's just a turn around and _not_ a layover. God, I cannot _wait_ for St. Thomas tomorrow."

"Blame seniority," Amy said nonchalantly as they walked down the jet-bridge to the airplane. They arrived to the smiling faces of Quinn, Lita, Mina, Rei and Serena.

A/N: Okay, so what did everyone think? Like so far? Don't like? Read and review! I intend to update as quickly as possible! Who knows what adventures await us onboard American Airlines flight nine-ninety from Miami to Cleveland!


	2. Cleveland sucks!

A/N: Hey, everyone. Hope you enjoyed that cliffhanger there. Remember, keep reading, keep reviewing, keep praying. Some of the language and sexuality is gonna be brutal, so just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sailor Moon, American Airlines, AMR Corporation, Boeing, Airbus or McDonnell Douglas. If I did, I'd be a multi-billionaire by now.

Fly Girls

Chapter Two: Cleveland sucks!

Andrew, Amy and Jared boarded the airplane exactly ten minutes before the passengers were due to arrive. Most of the time, the pilots and cabin crew arrive together to discuss VIPs, emergency or special procedures, situations that may arise, unaccompanied minors and other situations. However, out of the five flight attendants working the flight, the three pilots only knew two of them: Quinn and Lita.

"Long-legs Lita! Dayum!" Andrew gazed up and down at the tall brunette. "Did you grow sexier since I last saw ya?"

Lita rolled her eyes. "How are the wife and kids, Andy?"

The usually-cool Captain was taken slightly aback by Lita's comeback. Rei passed between Quinn and Andrew to finish fixing up the galley before the passengers boarded.. "Better watch out for that one, Andy," Rei pointed her thumb towards Lita. "That one's got seniority."

"Yeah, Andrew! I'm ashamed of you!" Quinn joked. "How are things, favorite Captain of mine?"

As Quinn and Andrew continued small talk, Lita walked over to Serena as she was stowing her overnight bag and pointed her thumb towards Andrew.

"Be very careful of that one," Lita whispered into Serena's ear. "He isn't married, and during flight, he grabs more than just controls and throttles, if you catch my drift. Don't let him get to ya, rookie. I just use that ploy to get rid of him when he hits on me."

Serena cocked an eyebrow. "How _old_ is he? Thirty? Thirty-five?"

Lita shook her head. "Negative there, rookie. That man is almost forty."

Serena could feel her jaw drop almost to the floor. "You're joking! Almost forty? He doesn't look a day over thirty!"

"He's a horny old man, sweetie. He'll cop a feel and cite he was 'reaching to grab something above him', or some other lame excuse like that. Once you tell him to stop, he stops. Good self-control."

"Wait," Serena said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Lita nodded. "Yep. He's a pervert playboy. Mr. Grab-and-Tell, so to speak, but he's _our_ perverted Captain, and his comments are mostly harmless, unless you're Mina-cute. God help you if he sees you in a bikini."

Serena sighed. _The first hot guy I meet on the job, and he's a pervert. I thought I left those behind in California._

_

* * *

_

The passengers had boarded at exactly 9:05AM. Business Class passengers were called up first, and then the general boarding was called. American Airlines uses a 'boarding group'-style boarding. If you are in a certain row, then you are assigned a certain boarding group. It makes for an easier boarding process in the long run.

It had taken nearly twenty minutes for the passengers to become settled in. Quinn, having Serena under her wing, had volunteered to take Economy from Mina and Lita. A last-minute switch meant that Mina and Lita now had First Class (which was usually Quinn's responsibility), a rare treat for the duo. Their seniority and position on the flight attendant 'totem pole' was lower than Quinn and Rei, but most definitely higher than Serena.

Serena, however, thought of this as an 'adventure', getting to meet new people, see new places (even if it _was_ Cleveland) and possibly even meet 'Mr. Right'. She looked down at her watch and sighed. _Ten minutes to go_. So far, Serena hadn't done anything to either annoy or disappoint Quinn, her co-workers or, most importantly, the passengers.

* * *

"Roger that, Miami, American nine-ninety is cleared to the Cleveland-Hopkins airport as filed…runway heading to five thousand, departure on two-zero point six, squawk forty-forty seven."

Amy Anderson was handling the radios on this leg of the flight. It was standard practice amongst most airlines to switch flying and radio/non-flying operations between the two pilots. Jared, however, was designated the systems person, operating the Flight Engineer's panel, the myriad of buttons, switches, knobs and gauges that lay in front of him.

"So what do you think of the new girl, Jared?" Andrew slyly said as he twisted around to face the younger Second Officer. "Serena, I think her name was? Quinn was telling me about her…va-va-voom!"

Amy rolled her eyes at her Captain's comments and looked at Andrew. "Christ, Andy. She's only a day into the gig and you're already going after her. Can't you wait until _after_ she's finished probation? Not to mention that's sexual harassment and you could get canned for it. Just because you haven't gotten any since Christ was a Flight Engineer…"

Jared snickered as he completed his checks. Andrew's face grew red with a mixture of embarrassment and defeat. "Alright, I'll keep it stowed until she either comes onto me, or you magically turn into a man."

Amy sighed as she looked through the flight plan. "Now I know why I date girls. They aren't perverted or horny all the time."

"You're our token lesbian, Amy," Jared said as he patter her on the shoulder. "Just like Andrew is the stereotypical horny old man."

"Old man my ass!" Andrew sniped. "I'm only thirty-nine!"

"You act like you're twenty, Andy…copy that, ground. Cleared to push and start in five minutes." Amy pulled out her checklists and flipped to the 'Before Start' page.

"Here we go," Andrew muttered. "Before start checks, please?"

* * *

DING! The pilots have signaled that the airplane is ready to depart, all doors should be closed and that 'the girls' as Andrew calls them, should prepare for the safety demonstration.

The cabin attendants quickly sprang up into the cabin, Quinn offering to do the public address announcement, Mina and Lita taking First Class, while Serena and Rei took Economy Class.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Quinn's cheerful voice filled the cabin. "Welcome aboard American Airlines flight number nine-ninety with service from Miami to Cleveland, Ohio. We ask that you please pay close attention to Lita, Mina, Rei and our newcomer Serena, as they demonstrate the safety features and procedures."

Quinn's speech, although routine, was more pleasant to the ears. She didn't allow her voice to become monotone, frequently changing the pitch, emphasis and pronunciation of the words. Sure, it was dull and boring to both seasoned airline passengers and the flight attendants and the passengers, but for those who either never flew or just zone out during a flight, this was critical.

As Quinn continued her speech, the 727's three engines started up, one-by-one. The noise wasn't as noticeable at the front as it was in the back galley. By the time the safety speech was completed, all three engines were up and running, ready to power away to their destination.

"On behalf of Captain Andrew McClane and ourselves, we thank you for choosing American Airlines and we hope you enjoy the flight. Flight attendants, please arm and crosscheck doors for departure."

"Forward doors armed, checked," Lita announced over the cabin PA system.

"Rear doors armed and checked," Rei announced.

* * *

The 727-200, its bare metal livery glistening in the March sunlight, slowly made its way towards runway 9-left at Miami International Airport. The morning rush was almost over, and flight nine-ninety was behind two other American Airlines 727s.

"Right, time to do the PA," Andrew grabbed the hand mike located by his right leg and began his speech to the passengers.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Captain Andrew McClane with First Officer Amy Anderson and Second Officer Jared Lee up front, welcoming you aboard flight nine-ninety to Cleveland. Flight time today is expected to be about two hours and thirty five minutes, at a height of thirty-three thousand feet. We're number three in line for takeoff here, and we'll be getting off the ground in just a few minutes. At this time, if I can please have the girls get in their seats for departure, that'd be great. Thank you, have a pleasant flight, and thank you for choosing American."

"Girls…" Rei muttered as she buckled herself into her seat.. "He always calls us 'girls', never flight attendants, never stewardesses, just _girls_. I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm a full-grown woman."

Serena just sat in her seat after fastening her seatbelt, waiting for the airplane to become airborne.

"Oh, Rei, just relax," Quinn said quietly. "He's a horny almost-forty year old. He has little lead left in his pencil."

Rei giggled evilly. "He keeps his shenanigans up while we're in St. Thomas, he won't _have_ a pencil."

_Wow, I thought _I _was bad when it came to men and their idiocy_, Serena internally mused.

* * *

"Roger that, taxi and hold runway niner-left, American nine-ninety," Amy announced over the radio. "Just wait for that twenty-seven to be clear and we're on our way to Cleveland."

"Yay," Jared sighed in dejection.

"Before takeoff checks below line are complete," Andrew announced. "Couple more minutes, and we're airborne."

The flight waited for about two minutes on the warm pavement, until finally…

"Roger that, Miami tower, fly runway heading to three thousand, cleared for takeoff runway niner-left." Amy switched off from the radio, nodding at Andrew. "You have control."

* * *

Quinn, Serena and Rei looked at each other in partial relief as the three JT8D engines spooled up to takeoff thrust. The jet began rolling faster down the runway, the terminal and signage becoming a blur as the aircraft accelerated to takeoff speed.

As the airplane hit takeoff speed, Andrew pulled the control column back to roughly fourteen degrees nose-up. The acceleration and climb power of the 727 was unmatchable.

A few minutes later, American flight nine-ninety was handed off to departure and was on its way to Cleveland.

* * *

Five minutes and ten thousand feet later, Serena, Quinn and Rei jumped up from their seats and prepared for passenger service. It was a breakfast flight, meaning there were one hundred and eight breakfasts to prepare and serve. Thankfully, the flight was almost three hours long, giving the flight attendants plenty of time to serve drinks, breakfast and attend to other matters.

As Serena was walking down the aisle, a man tugged at her right arm. "Excuse me, Miss, can I have some coffee, _now_?" His accent was Texan.

Serena glanced down at the bald, red-faced man of roughly fifty.. "Sir, it will be a few minutes. It's brewing as we speak."

"I don't give a rat's ass if it's brewin', make me some goddamn coffee!"

_Not even an hour into my first flight and I'm already getting harassed_. "Sir," Serena put a little more curtness in her voice. "I cannot serve you coffee until it is freshly made. I will make sure that you get your coffee as soon as it is made, but right now…"

The man grabbed her by the arm, refusing to let her go. "Oh, so now you're sayin' you're refusin' to serve me coffee? On a breakfast flight? God damn, you must be one of them dumb beach girls that do this job for _fun_! Now get me some coffee, or I'll have your cute ass canned!"

That did it. No one talks to or touches Serena Campbell like that. Taking her customer service and flight attendant conflict-avoidance training into account, she quickly pulled her arm away from the man's sausage-like fingers and pointed her finger at his face, her voice became low but serious.

"Sir, if I may say so, you're acting immature, you're disturbing the other passengers and my six-year-old _sister_ has better manners than you do. Now, I understand that you want some coffee, and that's fine, but right now, it is being brewed and will be ready in two or three minutes, so please…sit down, relax, read a magazine and please do _not_ touch me or threaten me like that again."

The passengers surrounding the heavy-set Texan, mostly tourists, noticed the exchange. Some passengers in the rows behind also noticed and had become interested in how Serena handled herself against this man. It wasn't a quiet affair.

Serena's face was beet red, the anger and embarrassment boiling up from avoiding a confrontation and screaming at the man. She didn't stoop down to his level, not when she was representing her airline, not while she was in public, and _definitely_ not on her first day.

"Excuse me, Miss…ah," the man glanced at Serena's nametag. "Serena?"

"Yes?" Serena stopped two rows back where a man with salt-and-pepper grey hair, thick glasses and a small grin eked on his face was sitting. He was wearing a business suit, which clashed against the vacation dress that most of the passengers were wearing in Economy. _Maybe First Class was full?_

"I would just like to say that you handled yourself very well. I have traveled this route numerous times, and I have never seen you aboard before. Are you new?"

Serena nodded slowly. "Yes, it's my first day."

"Well, Miss Serena, I just want to apologize, on behalf of myself and the other passengers in this row, for that man's behaviour," the man said quietly. "He had no right to put his hand on you like that, and you did the right thing by not stooping to his level." The mystery man then returned to his paperwork.

"Thank you, sir," Serena said through a smile. As she returned her aft journey towards Quinn and Rei, Quinn motioned, using her finger, for her to come into the galley.

"What happened?" Quinn asked.

"The man in row sixteen wanted some coffee, it wasn't ready yet, and he grabbed my arm. I took care of him though."

"I noticed," Quinn said through a small smirk. "Those types of passengers are always the ones who make new girls quit. You handled yourself very well." Quinn smiled as she finished loading the meal trays, coffee, tea and soft drinks onto the wheel cart.

Serena let out a sigh of relief. _Two compliments in less than ten minutes. Damn, I'm good_.

* * *

Serena and Quinn rolled the drinks cart down the aisle, both smiling and filling requests for drinks. The preferred drinks seemed to be either coffee, orange juice or water, Serena noticed. It _was_ dry up here. Quinn wasn't lying.

As she passed by the heavy-set Texan man who had harassed her earlier, Quinn shot the man one of the ugliest looks ever. _She's just a new kid, buddy. You hurt her, I hurt you_, Quinn fumed internally.

"Would you like your coffee now, sir?" Serena asked sweetly as she passed the orange juice and water to the couple sitting beside him.

"Ah, yes, please," the Texan man said, face turning red. "I'm…ah, hell, I'm sorry about earlier. I'm just cranky, that's all." _Too late to save face,_ Serena mentally seethed. _You busted your only chance at a good first impression._

The couple sitting beside him in the middle and window seats glared at him, the passengers surrounding the man directly in front, beside and behind him waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

Quinn and Serena had quickly met up with Rei and Lita, who had finished serving the forward half of Economy with drinks. Mina, having First Class all to herself, was enjoying it. There were only six passengers in First, and two of them were, to Mina, really cute.

"Does she always hit on the passengers?" Serena asked Quinn.

"Usually only the cute ones," Quinn sighed quietly. "Come on, let's get breakfast ready."

* * *

As breakfast was being served, Serena couldn't help but wonder what the First Class breakfasts tasted like. _Probably better than what I had for breakfast_, Serena thought. Her stomach agreed, rather loudly, as she handed out the final breakfast left on the trolley.

"Mommy, she has a monster in her tummy!" A small child whined as she had heard Serena's stomach. Serena's face turned bright red, knowing this little kid was talking about her. Quinn couldn't help but chuckle as she and Serena pulled the breakfast cart back to the rear galley. _Could this day get _any_ worse?_

"Ah, Serena," Quinn sighed happily as they took two empty seats near the galley. "You really know how to impress little children."

"Well, that's what happens when you have to rush to the airport and all you have is coffee and a muffin," Serena said as she hung her head in embarrassment.

"Don't worry, dear," Quinn patted Serena on the shoulder. "We still have a little time left. I'll grab us a couple spare meals from the First Class galley."

Serena's mouth watered as Quinn returned from First, presenting two trays of breakfast: scrambled eggs, sausage and waffles. Quickly tearing into the breakfast, Quinn and Rei watched in amusement as the petite woman engulfed the breakfast quickly.

"Wow," Rei said under hear breath. "A human vacuum cleaner, she is." Quinn nodded in agreement.

* * *

Amy Anderson had waited patiently for her meal to come. She had selected the cheese and bacon omelette instead of the waffles, eggs and sausage. Andrew had already finished his breakfast while Jared had declined in favour of coffee and a croissant.

"And those damn comedians say airline food sucks," Amy said contently whilst taking her final bite of the omelette. Scanning the skies in front of her, she could see nothing but blue sky, the occasional cumulus cloud obscuring the ground.

"Yeah, thank God the gals at least feed us. Lets just hope that ah, they didn't put any laxatives in my breakfast!" Andrew laughed as Mina entered the flight deck to take their trays away.

"Say another word, and you don't get any lunch on the return leg," Mina snapped.

"Whoa there, cowgirl. I was kidding!"

"I wasn't."

* * *

It had been nearly two hours since flight nine-ninety had left Miami; the sun and warmth of southern Florida was slowly replaced with cloud cover and minor turbulence at their flight level.

Serena and Quinn were just commencing the second drink service when something no flight attendant wanted to happen, happened. The aircraft had hit a nice jolt of turbulence somewhere over the Appalachian Mountains near the Kentucky-Ohio border, forcing the aircraft to pitch up rapidly. Serena was just pouring a glass of water for the same Texan that had harassed her during climb-out.

Serena's hands weren't fast enough to catch the water, her seldom-seen clumsiness causing the entire glass to fall right…onto…the Texan's pants. It was almost like slow motion, and…impact. Serena's face turned bright red with embarrassment for the third time that flight.

"God damn it!" The Texan cussed. "What in hell is wrong with you, little lady? Can't you keep your fucking hands on a simple glass of fucking water?"

Serena's mouth was agape, wider than her eyes as she looked down at the man's pants. Reacting quickly, she grabbed as many napkins as she could from the trolley, wiping up the water from his pants whilst apologizing profusely.

"God damn it! You shouldn't be a flight attendant, you should be a goddamn football player," the Texan sassed sarcastically.

"I'm so sorry, but the turbulence, it was so unexpected!"

The Texan's mouth began to open again until he noticed the couple beside him glare at him evilly. Cussing under his breath, he snatched the napkins away from Serena. _God_, Serena thought. _This day _did _get worse! I am not having any luck with this guy at all!_

_

* * *

_

"Ladies and gentlemen," Amy had the hand mike in her hand. "This is First Officer Anderson; as you probably felt, we've hit a little bit of rough air, but thankfully we've cleared it. Right now, we are about fifteen minutes from our top of descent. We are expecting to arrive at Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport in…roughly forty minutes, on-time, at 12:05PM. As we've been told by numerous aircraft ahead of us, it's going to be a bumpy ride, so Captain McClane has turned on the seatbelt sign. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, as it is liable to get a little rough. Thank you."

Andrew snickered and winked. "Rough, just the way I like it! Especially with that…"

"Say one more word, and I'll cry sexual harassment," Amy warned. "Save it for St. Thomas."

"Yes, ma'am," Andrew sulked as they bore the brunt of the turbulence.

* * *

"You're serious!" Rei looked at Quinn and Serena wide-eyed. "That guy deserved it."

Quinn nodded as the airplane took another hit of turbulence, the clean-up commenced early at the anticipation of a rough ride into Cleveland. "Right onto the pants. I am shocked, but at the same time, it's his comeuppance. _Never_ fuck with one of us flight attendants."

Serena just sat there, red-faced, looking between Rei and Quinn as the jet was literally thrown across the skies.

"Oh, don't worry, dear,' Quinn reassured Serena. "My first flight was a pre-dawn flight from Dallas to Oklahoma City in a severe thunderstorm. It was evil. I dropped a cup of tea into the lap of this poor woman sitting right near the front. Stained her shirt and pants pretty badly. Don't worry. It's just water. That doesn't stain."

Serena nodded sadly. "Yeah, it doesn't stain." _But it costs a shit-load to dry-clean, I bet_.

* * *

There are three things a pilot must focus on during landing: speed, altitude and fuel. Andrew and Amy were only worried about the speed and altitude. Fuel was nary a concern. Their alternate was well within their fuel limit.

"Roger that, Cleveland approach, down to four thousand, cleared ILS runway six right. Contact Cleveland tower one two zero decimal nine, American nine-ninety." Amy memorized the entire approach; she had flown into Cleveland-Hopkins twice; once was during a severe thunderstorm. Today…well…it was decent.

"Alright, I got the runway," Andrew announced. "Glideslope is active at four thousand…gear down, flaps twenty-five, please, Amy?"

In a fluid motion, Amy quickly threw the landing gear lever into the down position and selected flaps twenty-five.

"We are shooting it," Andrew said loudly and jovially. "We're going in!" He picked up the hand mike. "Flight attendants, be seated for landing!"

* * *

The plane made contact with the ground at _exactly_ 12:05PM, right on time. Andrew bragged about 'how smooth' his landing was to Amy and Jared all the way to the gate, much to their chagrin. Taxiing only took another five or six minutes before the plane stopped at the gate, shut its engines down and was connected to the gate.

Quinn and Serena stood at the front door, wishing every passenger (including the Rude Texan) a good day. The Texan grunted and walked off the airplane. After every passenger had deplaned, the girls sat down, took their high heels off and relaxed before the next slew of passengers would board. The cleaners had boarded and were quickly turning the plane around.

Quinn got up, walked over to where Serena was sitting, and had sat down beside her.

"Good job on your first flight," Quinn said nonchalantly. "You dealt with that idiot in row sixteen quite nicely."

Serena nodded solemnly. "I still feel bad about spilling water all over him."

"Hey," Lita overheard the conversation and turned around to look directly at Serena. "You can't blame yourself. That's the _worst_ thing you can do. It wasn't your fault that you had a klutz moment. The plane hit a bad thing of turbulence and one thing lead to another. If I had a dollar for every time that happened to me during my probationary month…"

"We wouldn't have to work for American," Rei, Mina, Lita and Quinn said together.

"Stop beating yourself up, Serena," Rei said in a semi-tired tone, the coffee not waking her up yet. "It's your first day, and considering the situation, you did better than most girls."

"I agree," Mina chimed in. "My first day on the job, I dropped a dinner tray on a First Class passenger."

"I spilled coffee on the Captain thanks to turbulence," Rei added.

"I forgot to secure a food trolley, and the damn thing came flying out during takeoff," Lita admitted. "And we're still working for this great airline. You can't beat yourself up over this. If you do that, you'll be come bitter. Just learn from your mistakes and avoid screwing up as much as possible."

Serena smiled warmly as her colleagues injected her with courage. She could feel tears welling in her eyes. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem," Mina smiled. "We're here to help."

A/N: A longer chapter than last time, but there's more to come. Next chapter is going to introduce Darien into the mix. Please note that it isn't a day-by-day deal, but rather I'm going to accelerate the timeline as fast as possible to avoid dragging the story along.

Until next time, happy travels!


	3. Bid packets: Best friend? Worst enemy?

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Who knew that Serena's first flight would be a trifle difficult? Then again, starting a new job is always difficult. In Chapter Three, the girls are living together (sans Amy), their first international trip together as friends and colleagues is on the way and our favorite Meatball Head may meet the man she marries in tropical paradise.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sailor Moon, American Airlines, AMR Corporation, Boeing, Airbus or McDonnell Douglas.

Fly Girls

Chapter Three: Bid packets are your best friend or worst enemy

Flight attendants and pilots were familiar with the 'bid' system: select your days on/off, the places you'd like to go and your vacation time, and pray that your seniority allows for the trip sequences to fall into place. Flight attendants such as Quinn had such a high seniority number that they could pick and choose any flight, domestic or international, in the system. Flight attendants like Rei, Lita and Mina had less of a choice, while Serena was often the last to get her pick given her relative junior status.

After working a month with each other, Serena, Mina, Lita and Rei had become close friends, and after hearing that Lita may lose her apartment, Serena suggested that herself, Rei and Mina move in together to cut down on costs (and to find a more appropriate home for Serena; she was living with her retired grandmother at the time). As of now, the four women were now living together as well as working together.

The apartment that the four girls shared was a thousand-square-foot room that was located on South Beach, near Ocean Drive. For a thousand dollars a month, they lived in a relatively comfortable setting that was at most a twenty-minute drive from Miami International. It had two rooms, a kitchen, a balcony and an underground garage. After Hurricane Andrew ripped through Miami in 1992, the apartment had been renovated quite extensively on the outside.

Serena had just come back from a one-day series of out-and-back trips between Miami, New Orleans, Atlanta and Birmingham. Her day started at 6:00AM and ended at 7:50PM when she pulled her 1992 blue Plymouth Acclaim into the underground garage and shut the engine off, taking her day bag and lunch box with her up to the third-floor apartment.

After taking the elevator up to their floor, Serena began digging through her purse, finding her keys, unlocked and opened the door, kicked her high heels off and noticed that Lita was still home. They would share a day off together before Lita was scheduled to head back out 'on the road' to Caracas, Venezuela for an overnight trip.

"God, what a day," Serena sighed as she slipped out of her uniform into something more comfortable: her favorite pink bunny pyjama bottoms and a white tank top. "I love being a flight attendant, but _man_ do these heels kill your feet."

"Tell me about it. At least in between the services, if the flight is long enough, you can put your feet up. Those hour-long jaunts you were on today must have been hell, no?" Lita laid back in her couch and lit a cigarette. "At least it stopped raining."

"Yeah," Serena said, looking out towards South Beach, the sun slowly setting on the western horizon. "Where are Mina and Rei?"

Lita looked over at the calendar. "They are in New York right now. Got in last night from London. They'll be back in Miami Thursday."

"Shitty," Serena said as she lit her own cigarette. "I was hoping we could go do something together."

"We're going to Barbados on April 25th, staying there two days, and then returning on the 28th. How's that for together time?" Lita deadpanned.

"How I got that trip, I will _never_ know," Serena sighed.

"Probably because it was open-time and they needed someone to fill that trip?" Lita suggested. "God knows I've had to do trips like that when I was as junior as you were. Good thing is, you came in at a time when the reserve bids were all filled."

"You never really explained to me how reserve, line and open-time worked, Lita," Serena sighed, taking a drag of her cigarette.

Lita explained to Serena the basic fundamentals of how the flight attendant and pilot scheduling system worked. Line trips were assigned days on and off (the type of trips that the four women were lucky to have), reserve trips were when a pilot or flight attendant were on the 'call' list, in which the _had_ to be available within two hours of call-time to replace a sick crewmember, while open-time was the 'filler' space in which flight and cabin crews could pick up extra trips for time-and-a-half pay.

Serena sat there, absorbed the knowledge and acknowledged what Lita was talking about, even if it still confused her a bit.

"At least our contract is better than those fucking pilots, the weeny-whiners," Lita sneered. "Oh, we don't get enough money, we don't have enough benefits, we don't get respected enough. Blah."

"I agree; pilots are assholes. Some are cute, but most are cocky assholes." Serena smiled as Lita offered a high-five. Serena returned the favor quickly.

"Oh," Lita's eyebrows shot up. "I forgot one more thing. Never, _ever_ fall in love with a pilot. Ever."

* * *

It was back to work for Serena today. She had been fortunate to bid her first 'international' trip to St. Thomas, United States Virgin Islands. Even though St. Thomas was a U.S. territory, Serena still claimed it was an 'international destination', much to First Officer Amy Anderson's chagrin.

She had taken a quick solace in the flight deck to relieve her feet and recover from the stress of having to deal with fifty unruly basketball players who kept grabbing her ass. She was working with four other flight attendants that she never met before (and never want to meet again given the snide comments she'd been getting from them), her feet began to hurt again and her ass was starting to feel sore from the male basketball players pinching it so much.

"You_ do_ realize that St. Thomas _is_ a U.S. territory?" Amy said flatly as Serena occupied the jumpseat behind Captain Max Stanton, the commander of flight eight-oh-five. "It isn't really international, if you think geographically."

"I failed geography in Junior High," Serena said without an ounce of regret. "Thankfully, I took a remedial course and got that credit back. Stupid teacher wanted to fail me for no reason."

Max Stanton and Zoë Philips couldn't help but laugh at Serena's comments. Maxfield 'Max' Stanton was forty-four, his chocolate-brown hair close-cropped, his steel-blue eyes rivaling Amy's. He had been flying the 727 for over nineteen years, starting out as a Flight Engineer in 1975 and working his way up to becoming one of American's "flagship" (premier and respected) pilots. Unlike Andrew, his modesty and gentlemanliness overpowered his sexual libido, his kindness and generosity favored amongst crews on layovers.

In the Flight Engineer's seat, Zoë Philips sat and watched the fuel gauges go slowly downward. She was only three and a half months Serena's senior, being one of the youngest 727 Flight Engineer in the airline at the time. Not only was she a trained commercial pilot, but she also had an A&P Mechanic License issued to her by the FAA. In short, she was one smart cookie. Her ocean blue eyes and long blonde hair tied in a ponytail screamed youthful. Upon closer examination, Serena could notice that Zoë had brown roots, indicating that blonde was not her natural hair colour. "It's not what the color of your hair is," Zoë explained. "But the size of your heart and soul." She was someone who was beautiful, intelligent and could carry a decent conversation.

"Ah," Max sighed contently as he slid his chair back. Amy was in control of the flight today to St. Thomas. Max handled the radios. "Hard to believe we get to spend the night in St. Thomas, and then back to Miami tomorrow afternoon, eh? It already feels like we're going on vacation."

Amy, Zoë and Serena nodded in agreement. "Yeah, well," Serena stuck her head between Amy and Max. "_I _get to go to Barbados in a couple weeks. How's that for being junior and picking a sweet trip?"

Amy's eyebrows shot straight above her forehead. "How the _hell_ did you get a trip like that…oh, I forgot…that trip was open-time."

"Yeah," Max said as he sipped his coffee. "Our friendly neighbourhood jumpseater Darien was bragging about how he got the fucking trip by open-time. I mean, he's an MD-11 Captain based out of Miami, he's number sixty in seniority…hell, he's got more stick time in the MD than I do in the 727, and he _still_ likes to brag about how great his trips are in comparison to mine."

"I thought the Miami-Barbados route was either 757 or A300?" Amy asked, puzzled.

"No, they're doing a equipment switch for some reason or another. Darien was bragging about it all the way down. 'Only four hours of flying and two days of paradise,' he said."

"I know, we heard," Amy said through her coffee.

"Who's Darien?" Serena asked; Max had piqued her curiosity.

"Captain Darien Shields," Amy answered for Max, in an annoyed tone. "He was traveling on 'personal business' today between New Orleans and Miami, probably visiting one of his 'booty calls' in the Big Easy. He's a nice guy, good-looking for a man, and I stress _man_, and he is very respectful, unless you screw up a flight. Land too hard, he critiques you. Flare too much, he critiques you."

"Use the wrong type of starch on your uniform shirt, he critiques you," Max mockingly interrupted Amy. "I mean, he's a great guy, but he's a braggart _and_ a very critical man. God help the poor woman that he ends up marrying."

"He's a Captain," Serena surmised. "Is he old?"

"By your standards, sweetie, he's ancient," Zoë laughed as she wrote down the fuel on board at their next waypoint. "He's forty-five."

_Aw, _man_! _Serena fumed. _Why do the cute-sounding ones always have to be old, horny or perverse?_

"Claims to have had sex with over half of the Miami-based cabin attendants, lives in this mansion of a house, drives a sweet car…" Max stated after making a radio call. "I personally think he's lying."

"Is he married?"

"NO!" The three pilots stated that with _emphasis_ and then broke into laughter. "He's been single since he started ground school with me in 1975," Max stated nonchalantly. "Says that anything with a woman over three hours long is 'too exhausting' in his books. I mean, _Christ_! He's a senior-ish MD-11 pilot based out of Miami, making top dollar, only has to work ten or eleven days out of the month…God, I'd kill to be on the 11!"

* * *

Darien Shields had it all: youthful looks, a playboy attitude, a cherry-red Cadillac Eldorado parked in the driveway of his Coconut Grove mini-mansion, and best of all, he was a single MD-11 Captain flying 'premier' routes out of Miami. He was in New Orleans visiting his mother, as opposed to visiting a 'booty call.' He _did_ have standards after all, or so he thought.

He was a tall man, topping out at nearly six-foot-two, his eyes a deep blue, piercing and cold. His raven-black hair was always neatly combed and styled to a 'T'. The women begged for him, the men were envious of him, and the rumours that he had slept with over half of the Miami-based crew were false; he slept with all of them. Two even had to transfer away from Miami to avoid his merciless sexual advances.

His family has a long lineage in aviation, from his great-grandfather who flew with Eddie Rickenbacker, to his father, the former head of pilot training with American. He was a child of surprise: his mother and father met up at a bar in New York, left to head back to their hotel, and he was the result, back in the days before abortion, family planning and other 'conveniences' that would have prevented Darien from being born. Instead of abandoning his mother, Darien's father swore to provide 'only the best' for their son. Even after he died, Darien's father had left him an innumerable amount of money: close to $75,000 for 'whatever use necessary.'

Now, after using that money to buy his way into flight school, succeeding, and working his way to the top of 'Jacob's Ladder', he was content with his life, both outside and inside of flying.

_Now, what should I do with my next week off?_ Darien wondered. _Maybe I should go check out the club scene in St. Thomas? Yeah! Let's go to St. Thomas! I don't have to be back here until next Monday. Then it's off to Sao Paulo, and on April 25__th__…BARBADOS!_

As quickly as he thought of it, Darien was off to the airport, planning to catch the 6PM flight to St. Thomas, flight eight-ten, that would arrive two hours after Serena, Max, Amy and Zoë arrived on _their_ flight.

* * *

Amy had 'kissed' the runway pavement with the 727, pulling the three JT8Ds into reverse thrust. After an accident involving the same type of airplane back in 1976, Max explained, the 727s and larger jet aircraft were barred from landing in St. Thomas until the runway was expanded and lengthened.

"We're here," Max sighed with content as he and Amy cut the power to the engines, watching the engine gauges spool down to zero. "So," Max turned around to face his First Officer, Flight Engineer and Serena, who had sat in the flight deck during the landing after preparing the cabin. "Who wants to go get beer, hot wings and such tonight?"

"I'm in," Amy said. "Girlfriend came down here with me on standby, and Serena's never met her."

"I'll come too," Zoë sighed happily. "Maybe I'll find Mister Right?"

"Zoë, sweetheart," Amy turned around to face the young Second Officer. "You said that about that 'gentleman' in Jamaica, and look what happened! You got fucked and chucked!"

"Don't remind me," the blonde Flight Engineer sighed in dejection.

"I've never been here, so I'm _so_ in!" Serena said excitedly as she clapped her hands.

"Alright, let's do it! Twenty hours in _paradise_!"

A/N: Okay, so I introduced Darien, the single, playboy MD-11 Captain (FYI: the MD-11, at the time, was the _premier_ international aircraft flown by American; sadly, they're all retired), the girls are living together, and _another_ cliffhanger. What will happen when Serena and Darien meet at some pub in St. Thomas? Will love brew, or will Darien 'fuck-and-chuck' Serena?

Until next time, happy travels!


	4. Trouble in paradise: Part One

A/N: I'm back with another chapter of your favorite story. Before we continue, I'd like to clear up a few things.

-One: Darien and Andrew are older in this story than in the real SM _because_ no one would believe that an airline Captain of Darien's stature would be 23-25. Most of the pilots I know who wear four stripes on their shoulders for major airlines are between 35 and 50.

-Two: Even though it is the mid-90s, the practice of pilots and flight attendants dating was still (and still is, for the most part) in full swing. Remember, this is _before_ airline travel was considered 'the flying Greyhound' thanks to low-cost carriers like Southwest, JetBlue and Spirit.

-Three: In mid-to-late 1994, the DC-10 and MD-11 flights were considered to be the premier bid flights because of their destinations (South America, Europe and I believe Asia via the northwest). These were either super-senior flights _or_ 'open-time' flights that had to be filled. Serena and the girls lucked out when their seniority (and Serena's open-time bid) had allowed them to nab the flight to Barbados.

-Four: The difference between layover and out-and-back trips is this: as some may know, an airline has what is known as a 'hub', or base. American Airlines' hub in Miami has numerous trips for attendants to bid for. Out-and-back trips means flying Miami-Cleveland-Miami (like in Chapter Two). This means an attendant or pilot will fly the outbound leg, stay in or around the airplane's vicinity during 'turn-around' (loading and unloading baggage, cleaning, etc.), and then fly the return trip back to their hub. A layover flight usually means that at the end of said flight, the crew will leave the airplane and 'layover' in the destination.

I appreciate the reviews and the insight on the story. I will try to publish as many chapters as I can. My goal is to get Serena and Darien's 'troubled' romance going by Labour Day. After this chapter, I plan to fast-forward the story two weeks per chapter. Makes it go by faster.

Disclaimer:

Once again, I do not own Sailor Moon, American or its parent company AMR Corp., Airbus, Boeing, McDonnell Douglas, Best Western or any of the products placed in this story.

Fly Girls

Chapter Four: Trouble in Paradise: Part One

Sun. Sand. Crystal-blue waters. A hotel located right on Lindbergh Bay. Could Serena have asked for anything better? Not even an hour into the layover in St. Thomas and _already_ she was in her two-piece bikini, sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, drinking 'umbrella drinks' with Amy, Amy's girlfriend and Zoë at the designated crew hotel: The Best Western Carib Beach Resort.

American Airlines crews favoured the Miami hub for two reasons: one, the relative junior status of the hub, having been considered a crew base for only three years. Most 'fresh from boot' crews were sent here. Many crews have opted to remain in Miami due to the favourable seniority: only ten or eleven cabin crewmembers, Quinn being one of them, had a twenty-year or greater stance at American. Most of the crews were between one month and three years seniority.

The second was the length of trips, layovers and equipment used on said trips. Most of the 727 flights were designated to a two-hour radius from Miami, fanning mostly to American's hubs at Dallas, Chicago and Raleigh-Durham, St. Thomas/St. Croix, San Juan and smaller Caribbean islands within that radius. The MD-11, DC-10, A300, 757 and 767 flights were usually international or trans-continental flights to farther-flung destinations. Most of the senior attendants traded these trips with the junior ones for a better QOL (quality of life), as some of these flights were _extremely_ long: anywhere between ten to twenty-five hours depending on the destination, number of stops and length of layover. It was also favoured because of the hotels American had 'contracted' to supply the crews with rest whilst on a layover. Most were four or five-star rated on beaches or near major attractions.

The common practice at American Airlines was to give the junior attendants (like Serena) an option to trade trips with senior attendants (like Quinn) for more favourable scheduling and quality of life. Quinn also favoured Serena, Lita, Rei and Mina for trade options _because_ these women were eager to 'travel the world' as opposed to doing out-and-back trips across the southeastern and eastern United States. Quinn also favoured this practice because her husband, Malvin, enjoyed having her home every night. (Hey, if you had a wife like Quinn, would _you_ want her in Paris or London boozing it up with horny pilots like Darien or Andrew?)

Serena had lucked out and had agreed to fill the space for Quinn on the 2PM flight from Miami to St. Thomas, which had thankfully arrived at just a little before 4PM Miami time (5PM St. Thomas time), meaning the sun was still up when they arrived. By the time Serena, Amy and Zoë had changed out of their respective uniforms and into their beach ware, the sun was still thankfully up, allowing some last minute sunbathing before the sun was expected to set.

Amy's girlfriend, Michelle Tanner, had begged Amy almost violently for her to come down to St. Thomas. She had recently finished her second year of teaching violin to Music graduates at the New World Symphony Academy in Miami Beach. It was her well-deserved vacation, and even though Miami was similar in climate to St. Thomas, there was no rush, no big-city interruptions and most importantly, no pollution.

"This is the life," Serena yawned as she stretched her body out on the deck chair, reaching for her second Margarita. "I swear, the farther south you go, the hotter the men get."

"I agree," Zoë said lazily as she applied more suntan lotion to her arms, legs and stomach. "You go to New York or Washington, and all you see is suits and ties. Come down here to St. Thomas…and the muscles thrive!"

Amy and Michelle didn't exactly share the same sentiment as Serena and Zoë did. "Personally," Amy sighed. "I'll take Michelle's slender, tender and soft body over any of those rock-hard abs and rock-filled heads."

Michelle couldn't help but laugh at the comment her First Officer made. "Well, sweetheart, we don't have to worry about that, do we?"

Amy smiled warmly as the sunlight made Michelle's dyed aqua-blue hair seem brighter and more vibrant in the setting sun. "No, we don't."

Zoë made a mock-disgusted face as Amy and Michelle began to engage in romantic kissing together. "Ew, get a room!" Amy responded to Zoë's comment with a suggestive finger.

"Let them be," Serena pulled on the Flight Engineer's shoulder. "We have our own entertainment." The golden-blonde flight attendant motioned her hand towards the numerous tanned, muscle-clad men that were either lounging around or in the pool.

"I never understood lesbians," Zoë chuckled jokingly. "They're always getting the action."

"It's cause being a lesbian in Miami Beach is easier than being a straight woman in Fort Lauderdale," Amy laughed intensely as Michelle began stroking the First Officer's ribs. "Cut that out, you!" The violinist quickly shifted her hands from Amy's exposed ribs to her bikini-covered breasts.

"Like I said," Zoë said flatly. "Save it for the bedroom."

"You're just jealous," Michelle said as she stuck her tongue out at Zoë. "You don't have a woman like Amy at your disposal."

"No, you're right," the blonde sighed. "I wish I had a _man_ at my disposal."

"Time will come for that," Serena said. "Right now, just enjoy the sun and sights. Maybe we'll luck out tonight at the bar."

* * *

"Thanks for the ride," Darien stated nonchalantly to the First Class flight attendant as he departed the Boeing 727 that had arrived from Miami some ten minutes earlier at 8:50PM. The sun had gone down and the twinkling lights dotting the hills of St. Thomas were similar to the stars in the sky.

"By the way, tell Captain McClane that I will be staying at the Best Western Carib Beach and I _will_ be expecting him at the bar by ten."

The FAA has stringent rules governing the consumption of alcoholic beverages during a layover, known as the eight-hour 'bottle-to-throttle' rule. Flight crews, _on-duty_, were to refrain from consuming alcoholic beverages at least eight hours before the departure of their scheduled flight. However, Captain Andrew McClane had struck luck and was not scheduled to fly out until 7PM the next evening, giving him a twenty-two hour layover. His crew's 'show-time' at St. Thomas-Cyril E. King Airport was not until 5:50PM, giving both him and Darien time to drink beer and scout out potential 'layover bait.'

Andrew had scoffed off the cabin crew as being 'old news' and had agreed to scope out women that were 'fresh meat' in their eyes. The two senior-but-good looking pilots departed the terminal for the hotel and bar.

"I got the need," Andrew grinned.

"The need for speed!" Andrew and Darien said together, replicating Tom Cruise and Anthony Edwards from the 1986 classic _Top Gun_. "There's only one thing worth dying for," Andrew grinned.

"What's that?" Darien asked while looking quizzically at his friend and drinking buddy.

"Poon-tang!"

* * *

Serena, Amy, Michelle, Zoë and Max had arrived at the hotel's bar at approximately 9:40PM for some drinks, 'boy-scouting' and general St. Thomas silliness as they had called it. Max and Zoë had not eaten, so the table they had occupied was full of nachos, wings and mozzarella sticks, as well as the pitcher of beer that Max had graciously said he'd pay for in full.

"Now you know why we love him," Zoë said as she wrapped her arm around Max, who was sipping his mug of beer nonchalantly. "He pays for the beer!"

"Unless you screw up on the landing," Amy stated. "Then the First Officer or Flight Engineer have to pay for beer." Max gave a jokingly-deadly glare to Amy.

"Yes, well, you haven't fucked any landings up. I swear, if it weren't for the fact that I was a Captain, I'd have to get a second mortgage on the house," Max sighed and then grinned brightly.

"Does Molly know about your spending habits, Max?" Amy asked interrogatingly, one hand under her chin and the other on Michelle's shoulder.

Molly Baker was Max's wife of fourteen-turning-fifteen years that July. Max had specifically bid off the last two weeks of July to take Molly on a cruise of the Caribbean. Molly had been previously employed with American Airlines, based out of New York, before she met Max while working a flight between New York and Miami when Max was a new-hire Flight Engineer. After she and Max wed, Molly had retired from being a flight attendant in favour of working for her mother, Ruby, at their diamond store in Miami Beach.

Their two children, Charlie and Amelia (in honour of famous aviators Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart, respectively) had been given little leeway in life. "Go to school, go to college, do whatever you want," Max had told them. "Whatever you do, don't get involved in drugs or the porn industry or I will disown you." As of 1994, Charlie was ten and Amelia was eight. They were both enrolled in school; Charlie had often told his teachers that he 'wanted to be a pilot' while Amelia wanted to be a fashion model 'just like Barbie.'

"Yeah, well, thank God she made assistant manager at Ruby's Diamond Store," Max said in mock-dejection. "It's bad enough we have Charlie and Amelia running around screaming bloody murder at each other. It's even worse when I'm on these layovers without them. Charlie says that 'mommy always takes Amelia's side' and Amelia says the other, vice versa…ah, well."

"You are _so _lucky," Amy sighed happily. "You have two beautiful children."

"Are you and Michelle planning to have children?" Serena asked.

Michelle and Amy nodded. "Amy's brother, Greg, has agreed to be a sperm donor for Michelle," Amy explained. "We _hope_ to have a child sometime in the next two years."

"Yeah," Michelle laughed. "At least when we _have _one, there'll be a tax write off!"

The entire table burst out laughing, raising their glasses in triumphant glee as Serena basked in the company of old and new friends, colleagues and co-workers. _I guess the glamour of this job is finally rearing itself_, Serena thought. _Could this night get any better?_

_

* * *

_

Darien and Andrew had checked in, changed and sauntered their way down to the bar incognito. They knew that this bar was frequented by American Airlines crew, and both Captains, despite being well-respected, had made a few enemies at the New York and Miami hubs. Thankfully, there were no enemies, just 'prime girls' as Darien explained.

The two middle-aged men had taken a seat at the bar, motioning to the bartender to mix two 'double rye and cokes'. Darien gave a quick scan of the bar and looked dejected.

_Did her, did her, she's a bitch, did her, did her…_Darien's eye caught the blonde-haired, blue-eyed cutie sitting over at a large table with Max, Amy, Zoë and Michelle, all laughing in humour at the story of the Texan that had harassed her on her first working trip. _Hello, gorgeous. Have I met you before? Scanning…nope, you're new to me!_

"Hold this," Darien said quietly to Andrew. "I've got some…tension to release."

Andrew laughed jovially. "Go relieve your 'tension' then! And if she has a sister, refer 'em to me!" Darien swatted his hand downward dismissively. _If she has a sister, I'm going to have to have a ménage-et-trois!_

The four crewmembers and Amy's girlfriend had downed the entire pitcher of beer in less than fifteen minutes. Darien, wanting to make a good first impression, offered to take the pitcher from the waitress serving the table and deliver it himself 'as a gesture of generosity.' The waitress, whom Darien knew 'personally', agreed in the interests of lightening her workload that evening.

"Uh oh," Amy chuckled semi-buzzed. "I think I see someone familiar!"

"Christ," Max muttered under his breath. "What are you doing? Stalking me? I'm married! Just because you have the hots for me doesn't mean I reciprocate!" The entire table giggled uncontrollably at Max's comment as Darien placed the pitcher of beer carefully down on the table.

"Actually," Darien said through gritted teeth. "I'm here to meet this lovely young woman." He motioned his hand to Serena, who had recovered from her giggle-fit and saw the tall, striking, somewhat-old gentleman standing behind her.

"Wow," Serena gasped. "You _are_ cute. If these two hadn't told me you were forty-five," Serena pointed to Amy and Zoë. "I'd say you were one hot tamale!"

Darien shrugged and smirked. "Age is just a number."

"Yes, it is," Serena cooed drunkenly. "But yours is too high for my liking."

_Uh oh_, Amy thought, glaring at Darien. _Captain Shields is turning on the charm. Just see where it goes_.

"Aw," Darien said sadly. "Can we still be friends?"

"And I take it you want some benefits on the side as well?" Serena said through a smirk. "Thanks, but no thanks."

_Damn, she's a tough one_, Darien thought. "How about if I just buy you a drink at the bar?"

Serena's brain clicked for a minute. _One drink wouldn't hurt,_ she thought. She shrugged and nodded. "Okay, but if you try and funny business, buster, I'll kick your sorry ass!"

Max, Amy and Michelle let out a unison 'oooh' as they watched Serena walk, arms linked with Darien, to the bar.

* * *

"So you're a Captain for American, eh?" Serena said as she took a sip of her rye and coke Darien had bought her. "What airport you based out of?"

"Miami," Darien announced without an inch of a lie. "I'm an MD-11 pilot. Exotic destinations, erotic situations, you know?"

Serena nodded impressively. "Erotic situations?"

"Yeah, you know, girl in every port sort of deal." _Wow, she's got a smokin' body!_ "How about you, Miss Campbell? Where are you based out of?"

"Miami as well. This is the first time I've flown to St. Thomas, or in fact _any _of the Caribbean." _Don't do it, Serena. He's a jerk. Just flirt with him. Don't touch him._

"Impressive," Darien deadpanned. "You've been working at American for, what? A month now?"

"About that, yeah," Serena crooned drunkenly, her brain couldn't decipher whether he was just trying to bed her or be genuinely kind. _Fuck, his body is so sexy, his eyes are so blue…his lips are so kissable. Sure, he may be in his mid-forties, but Hugh Hefner has girls lining up behind him, and he's almost seventy!_

"Would you…like to come for a walk with me?" Darien asked smoothly.

_Would I ever!_ "Uh, sure!"

Darien beamed as he led Serena away from the bar and towards Max, Amy, Zoë and Michelle.

"Where are you going, Serena?" Amy called out.

"For a walk with Darien. Relax, if he tries anything, I'll obliterate his testicles!"

Amy and Max laughed. "That's our Serena," the both of them said together.

* * *

Darien and Serena walked along Lindbergh Bay beach, the waves lapping and crashing along the beach. It was almost 11:30, and the two had talked for almost half an hour whilst smoking cigarettes and walking along the beach. Serena's alcoholic buzz had disappeared, leaving her alert and cautious to any move that Darien may put on her. _Try and fuck me, and your balls will be seagull food!_

"I love it here," Serena confided in Darien. "It's so pretty, so peaceful, so calm."

Darien rolled his eyes out of sight of Serena. _You don't think I don't know that?_ "It's not as pretty as you, Serena."

_Whoa, did he just _actually_ say that line? Lame! Two more strikes, buster!_ "Thank you," Serena giggled out of mild embarrassment. "You're not so bad-looking for forty-five."

"Thanks," Darien nodded. "It must be living in Miami that does it." A pause. "Say, you want to go back to the hotel?"

Serena analyzed the question. _Is he going to fuck me?_ "For what? Sex?" Serena spat angrily.

_FUCK!_ "No, ah, just for…"

"I was warned about you," Serena stopped on the beach, looking right up at Darien's steel eyes. "You always try to have sex with women and then dump them later. Well, guess what? Unless you plan to fuck and stay instead of fuck and chuck, you aren't putting that wingless wonder anywhere _near_ my landing strip!" _Haha! Score one for Serena!_

"Look, I'm just trying to be nice to you," Darien sighed, putting a hand over his forehead. "And you're accusing me of wanting to fuck and chuck you?" _Bad idea! Go around! Abort! Abort!_ "Maybe I want to start something with you?"

"Like what? The 'fuck Serena for free' card? I don't think so!"

Almost automatically, Darien grabbed Serena and kissed her intensely on the lips, his tongue forcing its way past her teeth, probing and searching for hers. Serena struggled in Darien's arms for a moment before relaxing. _Damn, I guess he is a good kisser…wait, FUCK!_

"Let _go_ of me!" Serena screamed as she slapped Darien across the cheek. "What the fuck was that?"

"That, my dear," Darien strained as he rubbed is cheek. "Was a romantic kiss."

"Romantic or erotic?" Serena spat.

"Maybe both?" Darien said, innocently, winking.

_Ah, fuck. He is cute, he is successful. If he sucks in bed, then you can spread a rumour about how his penis is too small or something. Maybe he isn't trying to fuck and chuck. I shouldn't have assumed…let's just see how it goes._

"Okay, stranger," Serena softened her voice. "Let's go back to my room, get a bottle of wine, and finish what you started."

_SCORE! And that's two points for the Miami Heat_, Darien's internal voice screamed. _God damn, I'm good!_ Darien and Serena walked back towards the resort, their hands intertwined, but their thoughts and hopes on different standards.

A/N: So, there you go. Now Darien and Serena have _finally _met four chapters later, and once again, another cliffhanger. More incentive for my dearly beloved fans to wait. Hope you liked this chapter, and I hope you can wait for another chapter of Fly Girls.

Until next time, happy travels!


	5. Trouble in paradise: Part Two

A/N: Okay, everyone. So, who all wants to hear about what Serena and Darien did in the hotel room? You do? HERE IT IS! PS: Sorry for not updating as fast. Had a trifle emergency that I had to deal with.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sailor Moon, American Airlines or AMR Corporation, Boeing, Airbus, McDonnell Douglas or any other products in this story.

Fly Girls

Chapter Five: Trouble in Paradise: Part Two

Serena Campbell awoke to the St. Thomas sun beaming into her hotel room at the Best Western Carib Beach Resort, her mind working overtime to establish what had happened last night. A pair of blue jeans, a black tropical shirt, her bra and panties and various other articles of clothing lay strewn across the bed, the floor and the small sofa located just across from the bed. _Thank God the flight doesn't leave until four_, Serena sighed internally.

Sleeping beside her, snoring quietly, was the man she had met last night: Captain Darien Shields. _Oh, my God. Did you _actually_ sleep with him?_

_

* * *

_

(The night before)

Serena and Darien had walked back from Lindbergh Bay all the way to their hotel, giggling, kissing and fondling each other through their semi-drunken stupor. The front desk clerk was too wrapped up in her magazine to realize that Serena had already unbuttoned Darien's shirt, kissing and caressing the man's still-hard abs. Darien was goading Serena to go down 'a little lower.' Still no attention from the front desk clerk, the 'couple' bee-lined it straight for the elevators to their room.

After reaching their room, Serena and Darien immediately started going at each other wildly. It was like watching two animals attacking each other: Serena clawed Darien's chest while Darien rubbed and caressed Serena's bosom through the white lace bra she had on.

"You better be good," Serena growled, her inhibitions tossed out the window like cheap clothing.

"Baby, I'm the best," Darien purred.

Darien and Serena had gone at it as if they were virgins on prom night; the sexual encounter lead to Serena waking up the entire floor with her screams of ecstasy, garnering enough complaints to get them to 'keep quiet' whilst making love. Darien threw his dress shoe at the door, threatening to come out and 'make him (the night manager) quiet' if they weren't left alone. Finally, after nearly an hour of passionate, if not impersonal lovemaking, the blonde-haired flight attendant and middle-aged Captain fell asleep in each other's arms.

"Wow," Serena muttered to herself as she began to crawl out of bed. Darien stirred awake as he looked at his surroundings. _This isn't my room_, Darien thought sleepily. _Uh oh._

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Serena chirped cheerfully as she looked down at the raven-haired pilot. "I trust you had a good slumber last night?"

"Oh, God," Darien muttered. "What did I _do?_"

Serena smirked. "What _didn't _you do?"

"I didn't leave your bed afterward! Oh, fuck! I'm…ah, shit," Darien sighed as he reached over for a pack of cigarettes, lighting one.

"What do you mean, 'didn't leave my bed afterward', Darien?" Serena asked, placing her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you wanted something serious? Something long-lasting? Something other than a fucking _one-night stand_!"

_Fuck, she's trapping me!_ Darien's mouth dropped open in shock. "I…did I say that?"

"Yes, you did say that!" Serena spat. "I only sleep with men who are going to actually be _serious_ about it! You loaded me up with liquor last night, and for what purpose? To fulfill that idiotic pilot fantasy of yours? 'Girl in every port?' Guess what, _Captain!_" Serena's face grew red with anger. "I believed you when you said you wanted something serious!"

"I did mean it!" Darien lied. "I'm forty-five fucking years old! I'm lonely! I…I have no one in my life!" Darien's eyes started to water. He had used this trick numerous times to weasel his way out of a relationship. _That's it, Darien. Let the waterworks flow. Trick her then leave._

Serena's facial expressions went from anger to pity. _Maybe he did mean it_, Serena mused internally. "Hey, hey," Serena cooed as she put an arm around the 'crying' pilot. "I didn't know that you were alone. I'm sorry." Serena thought for a minute. "Hey, would you like to join me for breakfast? Sort of a 'morning after' date?"

Darien looked up at Serena and nodded. "Sure, can I go and ah, get myself freshened up?" _That's it, buddy. Lie like a son of a bitch. Have breakfast with her, appease her until you leave the island, and voila. You'll never see her again._ Serena nodded.

"I need to freshen up, too," she sighed as she looked at the room. "Thank God I brought an extra pair of everything."

"Haha, well, I better get back to my room," Darien laughed. _Gullible girl,_ his internal voice laughed as well. _Just make it through breakfast with her, and then when you leave this afternoon, you'll probably never see her again._

_

* * *

_

Serena had waited nearly an hour for Darien to show, pacing back and forth in excited anticipation in the hotel lobby. _He said he'd be here by eleven_, Serena though as she kept looking at her watch. Eleven o'clock had come and past, and poor flight attendant had become more and more despondent and depressed. _Did he just…NO! He didn't! He couldn't have!_

She must have waited almost a half hour before it finally sank in: Serena was ditched. Luckily for her, Max, Amy, Zoë and Michelle were eating breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Scouting them out, she had found the foursome sipping coffee and exchanging small talk. The fifth unoccupied seat was reserved for Serena, 'as it should be,' Max proudly claimed.

As soon as her coffee was placed in front of her, the golden-blonde flight attendant had laid down what had happened the night before, the discussion/scream-fest they had in her hotel room, and the ensuing ditching afterward. By the end of the explanation, Serena was in tears.

* * *

"He _what_?" Zoë half-screamed. "He ditched _our_ Serena! What a cretin! What an idiot! What an…!"

"_Zoë!_" Amy cut the young Flight Engineer off. "That's happened to you too many times! You have just the same luck with men as Serena did with Darien!"

"Still," the young woman huffed and crossed her arms. "If you're going to fuck and chuck someone, at _least_ show up for breakfast?"

"What?" Max nearly choked on his coffee with that remark.

"It's the rule of sex," Zoë explained to Amy, Serena, Max and Michelle. "If you have sex with someone, you need to at _least_ stay for breakfast. If not breakfast, a cigarette or two. That's the rule, that's the way us women have made it, and that's the way it's expected to be. Ditching a woman after sex is _so_ Dean Martin!"

"What does Dean Martin have to do with anything regarding this matter, Zoë?" Amy asked in exasperation. "He didn't have sex with Serena! That pompous idiot Darien did!" Michelle just sat in silence, her right hand caressing Amy's tensing shoulder, her left hand occupied by a coffee cup.

Max sighed and shook his head. "Just another girl," the Captain sighed. "Sorry, Serena, but you got played by the playboy of American Airlines."

Serena hung her head in depression. _Why, why, why did you have to go and do that?_

"Hey," Amy punched Serena's shoulder. "We're still here, buckaroo!"

"Yeah," Max sighed as he sipped his second cup of coffee. "We still have a couple trips together. We're flying back to Miami, and then we're going to…crap…Philadelphia tomorrow. I hate Philadelphia."

"Why do you hate Philadelphia?" Michelle asked. "Two of my former students made first chair for the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra, not to mention it's the birthplace of the Philly Cheesesteak sandwich!"

"I have a few lecherous ex-girlfriends up there that want more than just 'money' from me, even though I am married happily with two kids!"

Even though Serena was there physically, she wasn't 'there' emotionally. _He swore that it wasn't just a fuck and chuck! He swore! That lying bastard!_

"Earth to Serena," Amy snapped her fingers in front of Serena's glazed-over eyes. No response.

"Huh, what? Sorry, I zoned out for a sec," Serena snapped back to reality, four faces looking at her, concerned. "Yeah, it's just that he said it wasn't a touch-and-go; that it was…something else."

Amy snorted. "Men usually say that; then they fuck you, dump you and leave you to dry."

"Hey," Max pointed a finger at the First Officer. "We're all not that bad."

"Excluding Max," Amy said apologetically. "However, he has a wife and two children. I doubt that you could be a home wrecker, Serena."

Serena gritted her teeth together. "If I see that asshole again, I am going to tear him limb from fucking limb. Until then, I won't let it affect my job. I'm way better than that." _I'm a flight attendant, I take care of hundreds of people a day. I can do this, I can do this,_ Serena's inner voice motivated her to move forth from the Darien Shields experience and focus more on work.

"Atta-girl," Max smiled. "It hurts, but in the end, whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."

* * *

The flight crew had arrived at Cyril E. King airport right on time at 2:45PM with a scheduled departure time of 4:00PM. Serena kept replaying it in her head. _Oh, I want to make it something more serious than a fuck-and-chuck, Serena. That lying bastard._

As Serena walked through the terminal with the other four flight attendants, she saw him sitting there, chatting it up with the gate agent, flirting with her mercilessly. _Watch it, sweetheart, he'll chew you up and spit you out,_ she fumed internally. Darien noticed Serena walking toward the gate, flashed a smile, gave a wink and was ignored. Serena just kept on walking towards the airplane sitting on the tarmac. _God, I hope he sits in First Class_. (Serena was still working Economy at the time)

"Okay, well you better be fucking certain about this!" Max snapped. "How bad is it?"

Max and Amy looked at the poor mechanic in anger, their faces taut and their eyes filled with fire. The mechanic, whilst doing a check with Zoë, had discovered a leak coming from the left-hand (number one) engine. After notifying Max, he called the ground staff and had requested a second mechanic to come out and check the airplane. When he arrived in the flight deck, the cheerful demeanor of the flight crew disappeared when the mechanic (a contract mechanic, of all people!) delivered the bad news.

"There's an oil leak in the number one engine. As soon as I took the cowling off to see where the leak was coming from, a whole bunch of oil had dumped onto the fuselage and the tarmac. I called the foreman to come and check it out, but he's busy right now working on another airplane on the other side of the field."

"Wonderful," Amy sighed. "How long will he be?"

"An hour or two," the mechanic sighed.

A collective groan was heard as Serena and the four other attendants boarded. "What's up, guys?" Serena asked as the pilots stared in anger at the mechanic who left the flight deck, clasping his hands uncontrollably.

"We're going to be delayed at _least_ an hour because of an oil leak," Zoë sighed. "There goes my dinner date with Marcel."

"At least we're stuck in paradise," Max sighed, a semi-smile etched across his face. "Better let the gate staff know we can't board until the plane is fixed."

"Jesus," Serena muttered. "This is going to be a long day. I just saw Darien swooning said gate agent about five minutes ago."

"Relax," Amy patted Serena on the shoulder. "The flight out is full. We have two dead-heading crewmembers flying with us in the jumpseat. There is _no_ way he is getting on this flight."

"If this flight ever gets out of here," Zoë muttered. "Sorry for being the bearer of bad news, guys. I'm just the messenger."

Max and Amy smiled warmly at Zoë. "Not your fault, kiddo," Max said in assuring tone as he rose from his seat. "Blame those idiots at Miami maintenance for sending us a broke-dick airplane. I'm gonna go let the gate staff know what's going on. Serena, keep my chair warm?"

Serena nodded and took the left-hand flight deck seat. _I hope this delay doesn't get any worse._

_

* * *

_

After nearly two hours of waiting, the maintenance foreman responsible for American Airlines at Cyril E. King airport had arrived at the aircraft, but instead of remedying the problem, he informed the crew (and Serena) of the bad news.

"Okay, so we found out that you have a broken oil filter on the number one engine," the foreman said, sucking in his breath through his teeth. "The bad news is, we don't have the parts available here in St. Thomas. We'll have to fly the part in from Miami, and the bad news is that it won't be in until tomorrow."

"That sucks," Zoë said in a depressed tone. "Looks like another night in St. Thomas?"

Max and Amy nodded. Serena shrugged her shoulders. "Long as I get to spend it with you guys and not that _jerk_, we're good."

"Don't worry," Max smiled evilly. "We'll defend you from that asshole."

"We'll be your sexy bodyguards!" Amy flexed her arms. "Michelle knows black-belt in kung-fu."

Serena giggled happily. "Alright, guys. I just wonder how the passengers are taking it?"

"I was in the terminal when they announced the cancellation. Apparently Mr. Foreman here told the gate agent that the plane was S.O.L. and that we'll be spending the night here," Max explained. "They were pretty pissed, but at the same time, they're grateful to be getting hotel, meal and travel vouchers."

"And Darien?" Serena asked.

"As soon as he heard the flight was canceled, he hopped over to the other gate for the regional flight to San Juan and get back to Miami that way. Far as I know, he isn't staying on the island," Max said. "You're safe for now. Just hope you don't bid any more flights with the asshole, and if you do, remind him, _painfully_, about how he broke your heart."

"Max, if you weren't married, I'd kiss you!" Serena laughed.

"Molly would make me sleep in the doghouse if she heard you say that!" Max laughed heartily as Serena took a playful swat at the Captain's head.

"Alright, you two! Enough flirting!" Amy intervened. "Let's just get the hell out of this airplane and back to the hotel. Beer and wings are a-calling, and I would really appreciate a back rub from Michelle."

"Ah, Amy," Zoë laughed as she put her jacket and hat on. "You renewed my faith in life."

"And other things," Max quipped jokingly.

A/N: So, obviously the 'romance' between Darien and Serena was a rocky one. For God's sake, Darien! You are an idiot! The next chapter fast forwards two weeks to when the girls travel to Barbados with Darien as the Captain. Will Serena and Darien reconcile? Will Rei and Lita try to kill Darien when they meet him? Will we ever get to read about an Amy and Michelle whipped topping fuck-fest that many-a-SM fan would just _LOVE_ to read? All that and more on the next chapter of Fly Girls!

Until next time, happy travels!


	6. Whoa! I'm going to Barbados! Part One

A/N: Glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter! Now it's time for the girls to 'work the trip' to Barbados…with a twist!

Disclaimer:

I do not own Sailor Moon, American Airlines, AMR Corporation, Boeing, Airbus, McDonnell Douglas or any other products placed in this story.

Fly Girls

Chapter Six: Whoa! I'm going to Barbados! Part One

She had pretended like it never existed. It had been two weeks since Darien and Serena became 'romantically entwined' in St. Thomas, and despite some minor heartache (and running into the buffoon on numerous times), Serena was fairing quite well.

"Swimsuit? Check. Passport? Check. Crew ID tags? Check. Gum? Check." Serena, Mina, Rei and Lita checked their overnight bags for anything that was missing. Thanks to two days off, prior planning and experience _and_ a trip to Wal-Mart, the four girls were ready to jet off on their trip to Barbados.

The four girls had elected to take the complimentary American Airlines crew bus that picked flight and cabin crews up at the Miami Beach Convention Center Stop, located on the northeast corner of 17th Street and Convention Center Drive. The ride took approximately forty minutes, and with a show-time of 9:40, the bus had to battle traffic on the Venetian Causeway and Dolphin Expressway heading west. Thankfully, the roads were less than crowded as the morning rush was heading _into_ Miami, as opposed to heading west towards the airport and the Everglades.

"Can you believe that we're going to Barbados?" Mina squealed. "I have never been there. I hear it's _so_ beautiful!"

"It is nice," Lita said with less excitement. "I've been there twice, but I'm ready to do it up a third time."

"Maybe we'll meet some hot boys there," Rei added dreamily.

"All I care about is that pig Darien doesn't try to hit on me again." Serena sighed. "In the past two weeks, I've seen him four times in the Concourses, and every time he says something along the lines of 'hey sweet-cheeks' or 'hey, baby, wanna join the Mile High Club?' I mean, _come on_. My name isn't 'baby', it's _Serena!_"

Rei, Lita and Mina had been hearing about 'Darien this' or 'Darien that' for almost two weeks now. Rei's blood began to boil.

"Serena, will you _shut up_ about Darien?" Rei snapped. "Christ, for the past two weeks, you've been going on and on about the idiot."

"She has a valid gripe," Lita stated matter-of-factly. "He and that other idiot Andrew kept hitting on Mina and I while we were working a flight to Dallas the other day. Fucking idiots deserve to have their nuts amputated."

"Yeah, but Lita, you're not exactly one to talk! You don't even play that team!"

"Why do you always use my sexuality and my lesbian upbringing in a negative sense?" Lita sighed in anger. "I made the decision when I was sixteen that women were more of my taste, and the fact that the LGBT revolution here in Florida is a hell of a lot more pronounced than you think."

"Wait, wait, wait," Serena stammered. "You're a lesbian? What are you doing being a flight attendant?"

Lita's face scrunched up and then relaxed. _Jesus, she's a good person, but _damn_, is she naïve!_ "The fact that I am a lesbian means nothing. Carol Landree (the flight attendant's equivalent to a Chief Pilot) _knows_ I'm a lesbian. The fact that I date girls instead of guys has no impact on my job. They fire me, I can sue them for wrongful termination based on sexual preference."

"That's true," Mina added. "That 727 First Officer we're friends with…Amy, I think. She's an open lesbian and hasn't been fired from American. Hell, she even has a girlfriend!"

"So?" Rei snapped. "What does that have to do with Darien?"

"Nothing," Serena smiled. "To be honest, I'm glad we've cut that asshole out of the conversation."

"Okay," Lita looked up towards her three friends. "Here's the deal. Serena, since he broke your heart in St. Thomas, why not exact revenge against him?"

"Revenge?" Serena looked surprised. "How do I do that?"

"Simple," Lita explained. "You and I are working First Class and the flight deck today. When you take your break, go up to the deck, say hi, and ask Darien out for dinner tonight. Be real convincing, too. Guys like that."

"Also," Rei added. "Do what he did to you: liquor him up, _stay sober_, and take advantage of his drunk ass. After he climaxes, -make sure he wears a condom!- just leave. Get out of his room and _leave_. Ignore him for the rest of the trip until we get back on the plane."

Serena looked at Mina, who just nodded in agreement, smiling evilly.

"Well, girls," Serena sighed with happiness. "Looks like I got a 'date' with a certain MD-11 Captain."

Serena grinned happily as she walked aboard the McDonnell Douglas MD-11, noting that it had a fresher smell and bigger room than the 727s she was used to. _Wow, so _this_ is why they call it a LuxuryLiner!_ The First Class seats were a soft-tone grey leather, spaced apart in which a midget or small child could use the space to take a nap in. The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee filled the galley, making her smile until she saw him standing at the flight deck door.

Darien Shields' uniform was pressed, prim and proper. There was a noticeable crease in his dark blue uniform pants. His dress blazer was properly cleaned, stray of any loose threads. The four stripes on his forearms almost demanded instant respect. His dress shoes were so polished, they reflected every ounce of light that hit them. _Appearance means everything_, Serena thought.

"Hello, Serena," Darien purred.

Serena grunted a 'hi' before proceeding with her duties. Darien followed her into the galley.

"So, how does it feel knowing we're spending two days in Barbados together?" A small, sly smile formed across his face, those piercing blue eyes meeting hers.

"I'm very happy to be doing this flight, Darien. In fact, since I am so happy, I would like to ask you a question." _Just wait for it,_ Serena grinned inwardly.

Darien's eyebrows rose. "Oh, and what may that be?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

_Alright! I knew she couldn't resist this,_ Darien praised himself. "Of course."

"Good. Now, I'm sure you have your pilot duties to attend to. I have to prepare the First Class cabin for departure," Serena said as she slid by Darien. "Excuse me."

* * *

The MD-11 had left Miami at around 10:50AM, beginning its four-hour trek southeast towards the small island-nation of Barbados. A former British colony, Barbados was well-known for its rum, sunshine, cheap duty-free shopping and of course, for Mina, Rei and Serena, the hot gentlemen. It was the easternmost island in the Leeward Islands, and probably one of the most secluded: a perfect getaway for tourists and flight crews alike.

The flight route, thanks to more stringent fuel conservation rules at the time, had the MD-11 cruising southeast towards the Turks and Caicos Islands, San Juan, St. Thomas, Antigua and then finally beginning the descent into Barbados between Grenada and St. Lucia. Darien had outlined this in full while giving the passenger speech. He always enjoyed briefing the passengers on what to expect, where they were, how long it was to take them and such. Even with the newest technologies that aviation had to offer, nothing could beat the reassurance from a seasoned airline pilot.

In First Class, Serena and Lita had just finished serving lunch. Thankfully, the First Class section had only eight passengers, whilst the remainder were located in Economy. The official head count today was one hundred and fifty six. Rei, Mina and three other girls were pleased by this, as were Lita and Serena in First. More personalized customer service means happier passengers means less stress and more relaxation.

"Well, time for us to eat lunch," Lita sighed as she grabbed two spare meals from the galley for Serena and herself. "Ah, chicken. The other white meat."

"No wonder people like flying First," Serena said as she cut into her steak. "The food we serve is superb."

"Speaking of superb," Lita stopped for a second. "Did you ask fly-boy up front if…?"

Serena nodded. "I asked him while I was preparing the cabin on the ground. He said yes." An evil smile grew. "I am going to give him a taste of his own medicine."

Lita giggled a little bit. "Wow, Serena. For someone with great people skills, you sure know how to get back at jerks."

"Try living in California. Playboy and dumbass capital of the United States." Serena nodded her head slowly. "I never dated anyone from my High School or from my neighborhood. They were all idiots."

"Hence why I play for the other team," Lita sighed. "Problem is, being on the other team has its own problems."

"Ah, Lita," Serena wrapped her free arm around the tall brunette. "You'll find that special girl, even if it means having to find her someplace _other_ than Miami."

Lita nodded in agreement. "You are right about that."

"I'm always right."

* * *

The airplane had touched down on Grantley Adams' runway 9 at 3:50PM Atlantic time (2:50 Miami time), some four hours after departing Miami. The weather reported was 86°F, light wind from the west and sunny. The flight attendants, after everyone had left the airplane, quickly grabbed their overnight bags and headed for the crew bus.

"God _damn_," Mina cried happily. "Even the airport is nicer down here!"

"We're here…finally," Rei sighed. "After four and a half hours of listening to three babies crying consistently. For God's sake, children under three shouldn't travel."

"Hey, it beats some _guy_ grabbing my ass every time I walk by!" Lita sighed. "I wanted to deck him, but since he has no pecker, I might as well let him cop a feel." Lita grabbed her ass and her breasts. "These puppies are _women only_!"

"So," Mina looked over at Serena, grinning mischievously. "Speaking of no peckers, where is Serena meeting _Captain_ Shields tonight?"

Serena smirked. "I'm meeting him at the hotel restaurant at six-thirty, grabbing dinner, getting him drunk, fucking him and then ditching him."

A chorus of 'woo-hoo', 'that-a-girl' and 'alright' erupted from the three other flight attendants.

"_That's _the Serena we know!" Rei said with laughter in her voice. "Exacting revenge on those who piss her off."

"Damn straight, ladies." Serena pulled out her sunglasses and placed them on her face. "Damn straight."

A/N: Sorry if this isn't up to par with the previous five chapters, but damn it! At least I'm updating frequently! I just set the preamble for the almost-perfect revenge, and I intend to make the next chapter WORTH it.

Until next time, happy travels!


	7. Whoa! I'm going to Barbados! Part Two

A/N: Hey, all. Sorry about not getting another chapter up and running, but ah, work has kind of had me in a bind. I should be updating every week or so.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Sailor Moon, AMR, etc. What's been said has been said.

Fly Girls

Chapter Seven: Whoa! I'm going to Barbados! Part Two

Serena Campbell had waited patiently for Darien to arrive in the hotel lobby. She had promptly changed out of her uniform and into the summer dress she had specifically bought for this trip. _He had _better_ show, or I'll slice him a new…_

"Hello, Serena." That velvety voice, that jet-black hair, those piercing blue eyes and that semi-casual dinner ware…yes, that was Captain Darien Shields in 'civilian form.'

"I thought you'd ditch me like you did in St. Thomas," Serena acidly spat. "Seems you remembered I _existed_ this time."

"Whoa there, cowgirl," Darien said, rubbing his chin. "No need to let the past interfere with the present. We'll start on a clean slate, yes?"

Serena nodded curtly. "You try any funny business this time, you'll have to deal with Lita."

"The bulky brunette lesbian?" Darien asked in mock-fear. "Oh, no! Please, not her! Anything but her! Please!" Darien waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. "I'm not afraid of her."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's just go. I'm hungry, and the girls are meeting me at the hotel bar at nine."

"Lead the way, m'dear," Darien said as he waved his hand towards the restaurant. "I'm sure it shall be an…entertaining affair."

* * *

As Rei and Mina tore into the scores of muscled men sitting at the pool, drooling over and arguing who was hotter, and while Serena was eating dinner (and rejecting the overt sexual advances of Captain Darien), Lita Hamilton had elected to take a small stroll along the beach while the sun was still up before heading back to the bar where Rei and Mina were.

Lita wasn't what you would call a 'girly-girl'. At almost six feet tall, she didn't have the petite, slender, swimsuit-model frame that Serena or Mina had, nor did she have the toned stomach or nice ass that Rei did. Instead, she had a decently-curved ass, a large bust (she was the largest at 36DD out of the four girls), well-defined abdominal muscles and an hourglass frame that made her hips appear broader than they actually were. She was lucky she even passed the medical and height requirements for the flight attendant training program at American. She barely squeaked by in the height requirement, however her flexibility had negated her tall frame. Her athletic nature rivaled even Mina, a former high school track-and-field champion. _Three years and counting_, Lita sighed internally. _Who knew that being a single, lesbian flight attendant could be so much _fun?

She watched the sun sink lower and lower on the western horizon, the sky changing from darker blue to pink and red, the sun dipping farther below the horizon. She looked over to see a couple holding hands and kissing in the setting sun, their romance radiating to her, making her feel even worse. _Lucky couple_, her mind fumed.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A female voice startled Lita nearly half to death, before she turned around to see where the voice came from.

The girl was about five-foot-ten, about a hundred twenty pounds, long legs and arms, wearing a sky-blue bikini that covered her decent-sized breasts, her buttocks just proportionate to her hips. Her hair was black enough that Lita mistook it for being dark green in the receding light and her eyes…those eyes were the most stunning blue eyes she had ever seen. They were almost violet in color. Her tan complexion suggested a Latin or Spanish background; Lita couldn't tell. There was no accent to her voice. Maybe she was American?

"Yeah, I suppose," Lita sighed as she turned her attention back west. "The sun is sinking like a stone on the pond, another day in paradise…alone…single."

"Hey, don't worry. I'm single, too. I've been single since I was eighteen and my dad kicked me out of the house for…well…"

Lita looked the woman straight in the eyes. "For what?"

"Well, I was kicked out of my family's house because I had told them I was a lesbian. My dad is a real conservative businessman. Owns two car dealerships in Broward County, and a whole slew of them in Dade. When I came out, my dad kicked me out, disowned me, and told my mother I was a 'heathen.' After that, my now ex-girlfriend told me that I was gutless, that I couldn't even confront my own _father_ about my sexuality, so she left me for another woman who would 'stand up to the homophobic' instead of just ignoring it like I did." The woman sighed sadly. "My mom still loves me, but she lives in New York."

The woman paused and then extended her hand. "Trista MacArthur-Sanchez, third-year astrophysicist at the University of Miami."

Lita smiled. "Lita Hamilton. Single lesbian flight attendant working for American Airlines."

* * *

"What do you _mean_ women don't belong in the flight deck?" Serena screeched. "They have _every right_ to do _anything_ a _man_ can do!"

"Let's face it," Darien said coolly through a drag of his cigarette while waiting for the bill. Serena's plan was failing. He had only two beers, and was 'meeting someone' at a club in the Gap at eight. Whatever intelligent conversation that had risen from his mouth was either rude, crude, sexist or demeaning.

"Most of the female pilots I know, sans for the lesbian you girls are friends with, don't know their shit when it comes to flying. In my honest opinion, you girls deserve to be in the fucking back, serving drinks, and let the _men_ fly the airplanes."

SLAP!

"You daft _prick!_ Not only are you a sexist, misogynist _gargoyle_, you're a fucking playboy to boot!"

Darien rubbed the cheek where Serena's hand had landed. "Please don't do that. People are staring."

"Good!" Serena stood up and pointed her finger at Darien. "This _asshole_ likes to take advantage of women! If he hits on your wife, girlfriend or even your _grandmother_, please for the love of God, deck him in the face! Fuck!"

Darien's facial expression went from shocked to embarrassed, his face rivaling that of a tomato. "Please stop this."

"All I wanted to do was get you _drunk_, fuck you and then chuck you, _just like you fucking did to _me _in St. Thomas!_ I mean seriously, are you that _fucking _dumb? Jesus! At first I thought you were sweet and romantic, then you fucked me, then you left me, then you tried a whole bunch of fucking wooing to get into my pants, and now you're leaving me _again_ to go have sex with some _floozy _at the clubs! For Christ's sake! You're a forty-five year old airline pilot! You're not fucking _Hugh Hefner_ or _Ron Jeremy_!" Serena took a deep breath, filling her lungs with much-needed oxygen. "You _seriously_ need to get your priorities straight! What, you're gonna turn me down because I'm just a one-night stand?"

Darien sat there, silent, his eyes meeting her reddened face.

"Well? _Answer me!_"

Darien let a small smirk eke across his face. "I have a question."

"What?"

"Are you on your _rag_ this week, or what?"

SLAP!

"God! You're such a fucking _idiot!_ No wonder you're single! You treat women like they're meat, you're an asshole and you fucking think that life is all about travel, sex and shit like that! Fucking Christ! This isn't high school anymore, _Captain!_ This is _real-fucking-life!_ And by the way, I had my period _last_ week. Dipshit."

Serena got up and thundered past Darien, who just sat there, dumbfounded. The other patrons of the restaurant looked at the middle-aged Captain with either disgust or shock. Even the hostess quickly snatched his signed receipt away and moved onto another customer.

"God, I need a drink."

* * *

"Good lord," Rei said as she took another sip of her rye and coke. "He actually _said_ that?"

Serena nodded emphatically. "That pompous asshole had the _nerve_ to say that, to me, in a public place!"

"What an asshole," Mina muttered. "I mean, seriously? Asking you if you're on your rag? In _public_? He must either have some iron balls, or he doesn't give a fuck about his image."

"He has no image," Rei stated. "He just thinks that because he has four stripes on his shoulders and forearms, he is a God both in the cockpit and bed. Idiots like that need to die."

"Now we know why Amy and Lita are lesbians," Serena muttered as she ordered another rum and coke. "Women are less problematic."

"Speaking of lesbians, where the hell is Lita?"

Mina and Serena shrugged.

* * *

"Oh, _God_, Lita! Don't stop!"

Lita and Trista had returned back to the crew hotel in a semi-inebriated state, forking over forty dollars for the cab ride, another twenty for a bottle of rum and had let the steel drum band outside the hotel room lull them into a state of erotic glee. Lita's face was buried between Trista's legs, each lick sending sparks of sexual electricity pulsing through the University student's body.

"Fuck! Fuck, yes! _Fuck, yes!_ Lita, don't-don't-don't stop! That's it!"

Lita's tongue perused over Trista's clitoris, forcing even more moaning and screaming. Finally, after nearly forty minutes, the University student climaxed, squirting Lita's face with the sweet, sticky liquid. The flight attendant wiped her face of the juice, sticking a finger into her mouth seductively.

"You taste sweet, Trista," Lita growled huskily, a seductive grin growing. "Would you like to taste me? To invade me? To _fuck_ me?"

"Baby, I'll invade you worse than Germany did to France in World War Two."

* * *

Serena sat alone and dejected in the hotel bar, a beer in one hand, cigarette in another. Rei and Mina had become too drunk and had elected to go sleep off the alcohol before venturing to the beach the next morning. _This is so stupid,_ Serena fumed internally. _Why the fuck did that creep even say that sort of shit, I mean, fuck!_

"Excuse me," a familiar voice echoed, albeit slightly drunken. "Is this seat taken?"

Serena turned around to see, once again, Darien Shields standing over her. _Doesn't this guy take a hint?_ "Yes, it's taken."

"Okay, you're pissed at me, that's fine," Darien sighed. "I _was_ going to give you a drink, but since you don't want it…"

"For fuck's sake, sit down," Serena half-screamed as she pulled the chair out from under the table. "Get a beer and just sit. No snide-ass remarks, no sexist comments, and no fucking with me. I'm drunk, bitchy and alone."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I just fired back two beer in two minutes because of what I said earlier tonight." Darien motioned for a waitress. "Rye and coke please." He motioned his hand towards Serena. "For you?"

"Jack and coke, please."

Serena and Darien sat there, in uncomfortable silence, their eyes barely meeting. The quiet lull of waves was the only reprieve from the awkwardness.

"I'm sorry," Darien muttered.

"What?" Serena perked up.

"I said I'm _sorry_, Serena. I didn't mean to say what I said and did earlier." Darien turned his head back towards the sea.

"Wow, he finally apologizes," Serena said sarcastically. "What, are you going to apologize to every other woman you fucked? That's gotta be at least a thousand."

Darien buried his hands in his face. "You really wanna know why I do the whole fuck-and-chuck thing, Serena?"

"Let's hear it," Serena sighed.

"I had my heart broken by a girl I knew in high school. I was seventeen and it was 1966. I bet you weren't even born yet. Anyway, so I met this girl in high school, absolutely stunning. Long blonde hair like yours, deep ocean blue eyes like yours and this glistening smile that would make your heart skip a beat." Darien paused to take a drag of his cigarette, and then continued. "I asked her to the senior prom, she said yes. We went out, got all dolled up in our prom garb and such. Had a good time, right? Anyways, she leaves to 'go to the bathroom.' She doesn't come back into the gymnasium, so I go outside to find her. Turns out, she's making out with this idiot I knew in my physics class. Real jerk of a football player. Name was Samuel 'Seiya' Smith. I have no idea why they called him Seiya; some sort of fag name in Japanese. Anyway, so after my date ran off with him, I just became fucking bitter. After my dad died and left me a shit-load of money…well…I decided to live the rich, pilot/playboy life. God knew I had the looks, the money and the lifestyle. I just fuck random women because I'm alone." _Damn_, Darien thought. _That felt really good._

Serena just sat there, mouth agape in shock. "Wow."

"Wow, what?" Darien asked somewhat-coldly.

Serena's face crinkled with anger. "That is the biggest load of _bullshit_ I have ever-" The flight attendant was cut off by Darien crashing his lips into hers, his tongue searching for hers. She resisted for a minute, but then just relaxed and went with it. _Just let him do it,_ Serena thought. _Maybe the plan will work after all; if he's dumb enough to kiss me like this a second time, maybe I'll just lead him on, get him boozed up and fuck him. It'll be a great pool-lounging story for the girls tomorrow.  
_

"There," Darien said, retracting back into his seat. "You think I was making that up?"

"Not really," Serena's face went from shock to sly calculation. _Serena, if you're gonna do it, do it now!_ "Say…you want another beer?"

Darien nodded. "That would be nice."

* * *

"God, Trista, I didn't even know a tongue could _do_ that before!" Lita lay in her bedroom, her chestnut hair sprawled all over the pillow, having just climaxed after Trista returned the favor Lita gave her. "I mean…wow! I haven't felt that good since I was in high school!"

"I learned how to tie maraschino cherry stems with my tongue while I was working at a grocery store in Hialeah. If that isn't good enough for ya," Trista said as she thumped down onto the other side of the bed, wrapping her arm around Lita's bare waist, squeezing the muscular brunette's buttocks. "I don't know what _is_."

"Certainly you, baby," Lita said seductively, winking.

Trista sat up straight, her back against the bedpost. "Well, since we got to home plate in one night, you wanna make it official?"

Lita looked at Trista quizzically. "Official?"

"Do. You. Want. To. Be. My. Girlfriend? Official enough for ya, darlin'?" Trista winked, a smidgen of her Southern accent poking through.

"Wow," Lita sat up, surprised at the question. "You actually want to be my girlfriend?"

"When our friends ask us where we met, we'll just say 'in paradise,'" Trista said seductively. "Besides, why should the straight girls get to have all the fun with relationships? Us lesbians need love too, ya know!"

Lita giggled. "We can laugh and say it's true. We did meet in paradise, but we fell asleep in Nirvana." With that, Lita and Trista fell into each others' arms, quietly and slowly falling asleep in each others' comfort. Lita grinned happily as she fell asleep. _Best layover ever!_

* * *

Darien and Serena had just finished what could only be described as something straight out of a 70s Ron Jeremy porn film. After nearly two hours of drunken fumbling and groping, Serena and Darien engaged in sex for the second time in their tumultuous 'relationship.' It took Darien only fifteen minutes to climax, making Serena think that maybe Captain Shields wasn't exactly the 'ladies man' he bragged about. _Any guy that blows his load after fifteen minutes isn't a stud. He's a dud. Damn men and their bullshit bragging._

Because Darien had consumed six beer and two rye and coke in the hotel bar, he was dead asleep. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him from his drunken slumber. Serena, knowing that she had accomplished her 'mission', quickly and quietly put her sandals, undergarments and dress back on. She quickly scratched a note out on a piece of paper, left it on the side of the bed she had occupied not even two minutes earlier, and quietly slipped out of the door, giggling all the way back to her room on the other side of the hotel.

* * *

_Oh, God._ Darien's brain was fuzzy, his conscious full of static. His mouth was dry and tasted like he had licked an ashtray full of cigarette butts. _Where am I?_ Looking around, he knew he was in his bedroom; his pilot uniform was neatly hung up in the opened closet; in contrast, his Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans were thrown carelessly on the back of the desk chair in front of his bed. _Uh oh._

Quickly getting up, he automatically noticed something was not right. Looking beside him in bed, he saw a note that had been written the night before.

_Dear Darien._

_We're even. Now you know how it feels to be fuck-and-chucked._

_Love,_

_Serena_

All Darien could do was read the note, over and over again. Finally, his brain and mouth pieced together the only words he could scrounge up.

"_Fucking hell!_"

A/N: There, satisfied? Serena got Darien back at his own game. This now levels the playing field. What's next? Will Serena and Darien _finally_ put their shit aside and get a _real_ relationship going? Where will the four 'Fly Girls' go now? Maybe London? Paris? Rome? Stay tuned for another chapter of Fly Girls, coming August 22nd, 2010!

Until next time, happy travels!


	8. Another lazy day on Miami Beach

A/N: So I'm back. This chapter is going to be a 'filler' chapter between trips. No plot development, no Darien-Serena squabbles, just a fun day at the beach…or so we think. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

I don't own Sailor Moon, AMR or anything else. Wish I did though.

Fly Girls

Chapter Eight: Another lazy day on Miami Beach

It was another hot day in Miami. Already at 11AM the temperature was 84°F (29°C), with an expected high of 88. South Beach and Ocean Drive were crowded with tourists and locals alike, either shopping, eating or just enjoying the early-May sun. Rei, Mina and Serena had a three-day weekend before heading out on the road to South America; Lita was in Chicago, on a brief vacation, visiting family with Trista, while Amy was in Dallas doing her recurrent training, Michelle in tow as she was playing a solo piece in Fort Worth.

"Now I know why I chose Miami as a base," Mina said lazily as she applied more sun-tan lotion to her body. "The beaches, the boys, you guys…fuck I love this place."

"I agree," Rei nodded. "Miami is one hell of a place to go boy-hunting. I mean look at all that ass!"

Rei motioned to the tanned, toned and tall men wandering around the beach, tossing footballs and Frisbees around. One man grabbed Rei's attention almost instantly after watching him walk across the beach no more than ten feet in front of them. He had long, dark, scraggly hair, trendy sunglasses, a killer body and was carrying a surfboard (though Miami Beach wasn't very good for surfing).

"Hello, surfer boy," Rei growled. "I wanna be your surfer girl."

Mina frowned and then jumped up to pursue him. "Screw you, he's mine!"

"In your dreams, blondie! Go serve some coffee," Rei snapped back, following Mina in hot pursuit of the mystery surfer boy.

* * *

Serena, on the other hand, was contently lying on the beach, soaking up the sun and allowing its warm rays to tan her skin. Despite living in California her whole life, she never really had a chance to visit the beaches along the Pacific Coast; she was relegated to the 'inner city' and such, her father citing that 'the beach is too far away for you to go by yourself.'

_Well, daddy,_ Serena happily said in her mind. _I'm sitting here on the…_a beach ball landed right on Serena's stomach, interrupting her thoughts instantly as the plastic ball made an audible _thwack!_

The blonde shot up almost instantly, removing her sunglasses, searching the numerous swimwear-clad people for the interloper that disrupted her tanning time with their beach ball. _Whoever did that is in _deep_ shit._ Almost instantly, she saw two kids running over to Serena's location, motioning with their hands to Serena to give them their beach ball back.

_Okay, they're just kids_, Serena sighed internally. She spiked the ball in a high arc, aiming it specifically at the kids, who cheered and ran off with their reclaimed prize. _Next time, I'm keeping it._

_

* * *

_

"So, Chad," Rei cooed sweetly. "What do _you_ do?"

Chad Helmsley scratched his scraggly mop of hair. "Like, uh, what do I do? Like, ah, surf, play volleyball, chill out, that sort of stuff, dude. I'm just chillin' with my buddies here in Florida on vacation, man. What do you, like, do, Rei?"

Chad's accent suggested surfer boy from either California or Hawaii. Rei never was into surfer boys, but considering that her 'hot scale' pegged him between a nine and ten, she just nodded in semi-interest. When she was asked what she did, she simply stated she was a flight attendant.

"Flight attendant? Killer, dude! You get free flights and shit like that, dude?"

Rei smirked as she took a lick of her ice cream. "Yeah, we do, though technically we have to pay taxes and shit like that."

"Killer," Chad replied. "Dude, you should _so_ hook up some tickets for my buddies and I to Hawaii, man!"

Rei arced an eyebrow. "Why should I do that?"

"Surfing finals, dude. Cash prize of ten thousand bucks! Totally put me through college, dude!"

_You go to college? You look like the kind of person who'd sit on his ass all day on South Beach ogling women,_ Rei mused internally. "When are you going, and where on Hawaii?"

"Late May, dude," Chad said excitedly, muck akin to a five-year-old getting candy. "Uhh, I think its like Waikiki Beach or something."

_Waikiki! Damn, I've always wanted to go there!_ "I may be working a trip to Honolulu via L.A.," Rei said almost teasingly. "Maybe I can get you aboard?"

Chad's beady brown eyes lit up. "Totally killer, dude!" He paused for a second. "Hey…you wanna…go out for dinner or something?"

_Where, to McDonald's?_ Rei smiled politely. _Go for it. He may be dumb as a bag of concrete, but at least he's hot._ "Sure, I'd love to."

"Killer!"

* * *

Mina, on the other hand, was in Heaven. Her somewhat-Valley Girl naïve attitude and toned, well-exercised body made her a prime target for the cute and not-so-cute. Her orange-and-blue bikini accented her curves nicely, despite not having much of an ass, her chest made the guys go wild. As she walked towards Ocean Drive, ten guys asked her for her phone number, and all ten times she just walked on by after saying 'not a chance' (Most of them were ugly anyway).

She wasn't really into dating, especially considering that she was away twelve to fifteen days out of the month. Unlike Serena, she had erred on the side of caution while on layovers. She had to literally beat pilots away with her overnight bag to protect herself from the youngest Flight Engineers to the oldest Captains, especially after a bad experience in Paris.

Two years earlier, a New York-based Captain tried to seduce and force Mina to have sex with him, going so far as to threaten to have her fired for 'ignoring a Captain's request', even suggesting subtly that he would rape her. Suffice it to say, that Captain earned one of the swiftest kicks to the testicles any American Airlines pilot ever had to suffer. When she returned to the United States, she immediately told her manager about the incident, who then phoned the New York Chief Pilot's office and threatened lawsuit. That same pilot was reprimanded with a month's unpaid leave.

Two years later, Mina had put that behind her, letting the Atlantic carry it away, allowing her to focus more on just getting to Ocean Drive, getting changed and meeting Rei and Serena for lunch at Johnny Rockets. _Sorry, boys. I'm off-limits for now, but all good things come to those who wait._

_

* * *

_

"So Rei has a date," Serena said in a teasing voice. "What's his name?"

"Chad," Rei said as she sipped her coffee. "Chad something-or-other, I forgot his last name."

"Is he hot?" Mina asked.

"About an eight."

"Lucky," Serena sighed as she took a sip of her coke. "All the guys that were hitting on me were fat, bald or ugly. Why do I attract the ugly or idiot guys?" Rei and Mina shrugged.

"Who knows," Mina said as she slurped her milkshake. It was her second one. "It's usually the ugly ones that are the best catch."

"Yeah, like that British guy we met in London," Rei agreed. "He wasn't the prettiest, but he was charming. Then again, most British guys are."

"Why can't I ever go to London?" Serena complained. "I mean, I love the Caribbean, but damn, I wanna go to Europe. I've been dreaming of going there since I was a little girl."

"You'll get your chance," Rei sighed. "It's nothing spectacular. Once you've been there five or six times, you'll get sick of it."

"Not me," Mina grinned. "I never get tired of Europe!"

"Mina, every time I bid Paris with you, you always disappear after we arrive at the hotel. What, do you have a little black book stashed in your purse labelled 'boys I'd like to fuck'? Or do you just wander the streets aimlessly looking for guys to have sex with?"

Mina smirked. "You're just jealous, Rei. I don't see you dragging them in by the hair."

Rei's face tensed slightly. "Yeah, because I don't want to just fuck-and-chuck. If I'm gonna have sex with a man, he _better_ stay in bed with me the next morning. None of this touch-and-go bullshit pilots give ya."

"Fuck-and-chucks make me want to kick a guy in the balls," Serena added. "Then again, I did that to Darien in Barbados, so…"

"So you shouldn't talk smack if you did it," Rei finished for Serena. "Though I will admit, you did have some brass balls doing that. Shields is a horn dog, a big one at that, and giving him a taste of his own medicine will show that fucker to never fuck with a flight attendant again."

"Who knows? Maybe he'll start dating you?" Mina suggested.

"Ew, wrinkly Darien-balls every night," Serena winced. "No thanks."

Mina and Rei burst out laughing at Serena's comment. "Wrinkly Darien-balls?" Rei said through her laughter. "Did you actually see them?"

"No, I _felt_ them. They were like…really big, rotting plums."

"That's gross!" Mina shouted, forcing everyone in the vicinity to look at her. "Rotting plum Darien balls? That's disgusting!"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Rei barked quietly. "People are staring."

As Mina looked around, she noticed everyone in their general vicinity was staring at the blonde, their eyes meeting her blue orbs.

"Shit," she muttered. "I really need to control my voice."

"No shit," Rei and Serena said together.

"One day," Serena sighed as she looked up to the roof of the restaurant. "I will find my prince, be he here in Miami, South America or Europe."

"Unless that prince happened to be Darien," Mina said in a mocking tone.

"Fuck you, Mina."

A/N: I told you it would be filler. It's a short chapter, but right now, who cares? I updated, on time, and I promised by August 22 I would. The next chapter has the girls going to South America, Rio I believe, so _stay tuned_ for another chapter of Fly Girls!

Until next time, happy travels!


	9. California Love Part One

A/N: Thanks for being patient, everyone. Work has been kind of binding lately and I've been kind of lazy. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer:

Nothing in this story, except for my original characters I may add later, is mine.

Fly Girls

Chapter Nine: California Love…Part One

Serena Campbell, Lita Hamilton and Rei Marshall had settled into the spare seats in First Class, reserved specifically for resting flight attendants and crews, enjoying the quick break between the lunch and pre-arrival meal services. Today, she, Lita and Rei were working flight 913, flying the coast-to-coast Miami-Los Angeles run, utilizing one of the brand-new McDonnell Douglas MD-11 aircraft. Originally, the three of them had planned to fly flight 886 to Santiago, Chile, but due to some unforeseen circumstance that only crew scheduling could explain, they were bumped from Santiago to Los Angeles.

"Two days in L.A.," Rei sighed as she reclined the seatback and took her shoes off, rubbing her sore feet. "I never fathomed flying west of the Mississippi."

"You've never been to California?" Serena asked, amused. Rei shook her head.

"Never. I've been to Europe, the Caribbean, Mexico…never been west of Dallas. Crew sked always sends me east or south, never west."

Lita shrugged. "Not much to do in L.A., anyway. I mean, you got Venice Beach, the boardwalk, Santa Monica and Disneyland. That's why I always bid San Francisco."

"Lita," Rei said as she rolled her eyes. "You're a lesbo. Of _course_ you're gonna bid SFO."

Lita looked over at Rei and narrowed her eyes. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means," Rei said, cautiously. "That there is more tolerance in SFO for the lesbian/gay community than there is in L.A. It's your comfort zone." Thankfully, there were only two other passengers in First, but even still, they kept their conversation hushed. An awkward silence fell between the three women; the hum of the three engines broke the silence.

"True," Lita sighed, breaking the silence, her anger subsiding. "It's easier to be a lesbian in the Bay Area than in the Basin."

"Not true," Serena said. "There's a comfortable niche in West Hollywood for the gay community. Hell, before I moved to Miami, I hung around the clubs there."

"Fag hag, are we?" Rei smirked.

Serena nodded whilst smiling. "Damn straight. Most of my men-friends are gay, and the only boyfriend I had during high school was bisexual."

"You have real luck with women, Serena," Rei giggled. "Bisexual boyfriend, forty-five year old playboy...damn, you're two and zero, honey!"

"Don't start," Serena said in a warning voice, her blue eyes gleaming with a hint of red. "I made two mistakes in St. Thomas and Barbados. I am _not_ making the same mistake in California. That's _my_ territory."

"And Mina's," Lita reminded Serena. "She grew up in, fuck, some suburb of the valley."

"Encino," Serena mumbled through her lunch. "The San Fernando Valley. I can believe it. She still speaks like a Valley Girl."

"What's the difference between where you grew up and where she grew up, Serena?" Rei asked, scratching her head.

"An income difference of about fifty grand," Serena said nonchalantly. "Inglewood is just southwest of downtown L.A., so of course, you have your lower-income and middle-income housing. Encino, on the other hand, is full of rich people."

"Yeah," Lita nodded. "It's like comparing South Side to the Near North Side in Chicago; one's dirt-poor, the other is filthy rich."

Rei rolled her eyes. "Don't I feel _so_ lucky, having grown up in Louisiana?"

"You're from Louisiana?" Lita asked as she cocked an eye. Rei nodded.

"Born in Baton Rouge, lived in Shreveport and graduated from High School in N'awlins."

"Nice," Lita said, nodding with approval. "Beats living in Chicago. Depressing six months out of the year, stupid the other six."

"Not to mention O'Hare is bullshit," Serena said in an annoyed tone. "I thought DFW and Miami were bad…"

"Ah, O'Hare is a beast that can be tamed. You just need to get used to it," Lita grinned.

"I still say, if I'm gonna live anywhere in the lower forty-eight, it's gonna be either Miami or L.A.," Serena sighed happily. "To quote Randy Newman, I love L.A.!"

* * *

The east-west rivalry between Miami and Los Angeles often sparked controversy amongst the various flight and cabin crews transiting through LAX. The Los Angeles-based flight attendants often sneered Miami for being too 'touristy', while the Miami-based attendants often said that Los Angeles was 'smoggy and stuck-up.' Sometimes the Miami-Los Angeles runs would combine both L.A. and Miami-based crews, sparking arguments over what city is better for trips, food, clothing, scenery and men. Serena, Lita and Rei just rolled their eyes as the 'hip' L.A.-based attendants groaned about how Miami was 'dirty and riddled with foreigners,' until Rei made the snide comment about how Los Angeles had just the same amount, if not more, immigrants (not foreigners) living in the L.A. Basin.

The women, having transited the American Airlines terminal at LAX, finally had some time to settle down, unwind and bitch about random topics, much to the amusement of the crew van driver, all the way to their crew hotel: the Hyatt on Sunset, made famous in various movies such as 'This is Spinal Tap', and for having the reputation of being the base of crazy antics by English bands such as The Who, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. It was also in close proximity to Sunset Boulevard, extending from downtown to the Pacific Ocean, home to famous clubs such as The Viper Room and Whisky a Go-Go, which promised a chance for consensual relations with the opposite sex for Rei and Serena.

"Stupid rich California bitches piss me off," Lita grumbled as the three women left the crew van and walked into the hotel. "All they gab about is their bloody fashion sense, what celebrities fucked and married each other, and all that other typical Valley Girl, Hollywood, shallow trash."

"Hey, I'm from California," Serena snapped at Lita.

"You grew up in Inglewood, you're an exception," Rei replied to Serena. "You're not one of those L.A. girls that still live with Mommy and Daddy. You're one of us."

"One of us?" Serena asked as they walked from the front desk to the elevators.

"One of the flight attendants who can survive, fresh out of training, in a new city, on her own, without having to commute," Lita explained. "A lot of our attendants commute to Miami from all over the southeast. We're lucky. Our commute requires having to do battle on the Causeway and the freeway to get to the crew room. Most have to travel like three hours from their home to MIA. Our commute takes thirty minutes."

Serena thought about it for a second. She _did_ move out of her house in Inglewood at 20, she _did_ follow her dream of being an American Airlines flight attendant and she _does_ live on her own, albeit with roommates.

"You've got it made, Serena," Rei said as the elevator doors closed. "You've got it made."

"I do," Serena smiled inwardly. "I really do."

* * *

"Okay, so who wants to do what?" Serena asked Lita and Rei while they were sitting at the hotel bar, having a round of drinks.

Serena, Lita and Rei were dressed casually, each sporting t-shirts, jeans and sneakers; their uniforms were hung up in their hotel room closets, as were their 'club' clothes for later that evening.

"I vote Venice Beach," Rei suggested. "Surfer boys…dreamy!"

"I can live with that," Lita agreed.

"How about afterwards, we go to Rodeo Drive?" Serena grinned. "All the famous European labels at American pricing!"

"Yeah!" Rei smirked. "I _do_ need a new summer wardrobe."

"I can go look for some stuff for Trista," Lita chimed in. "She said she wanted something from Los Angeles, so why not surprise her with like a hundred bucks worth of clothes?"

"Thank God for credit cards and bi-weekly payment," Serena sighed contently.

"Agreed," Lita and Rei said together.

Serena, Lita and Rei finished their drinks, paid their tab and quickly departed the bar and headed out onto the street, each pulling out a designer pair of sunglasses: Serena's were gold-rimmed, Rei's were red and Lita's were dark green.

"Girls," Serena smiled. "Welcome to my neighbourhood!"

The three women flagged a cab, announced their intention to head for Venice Beach, paid the driver in advance and sped off for some SoCal fun in the SoCal sun.

A/N: I know, it's short, they aren't in South America and it took me over two weeks to update. Just relax. There will be more fun coming your way as soon as possible.

Until next time, happy travels!


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